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She's beautiful
She's cunning
She's bubbly.
She's like a Victorian figurine in the glass shelf of menagerie.
She works her way up
by telling the right words
at the right time.
She's impossibly perfect in every way.
I see her.
I can see her.
I'm not envious.

Because I saw her lie and steal in the presence of her perfection.
This is for the person who I should always keep my eyes on.  
She has been lying and stealing since day one.
If I was to write a poem
On the story of my life
Words would fill those pages
As the stars steal the sky.*

© Melissa Carlson 2015
Subtle vibrations.
Energy.
Exquisite sensations.
Energy.
A near perfect nirvana.
Energy.
Cleansing us like a sauna.
Energy.
Despite our bodies being of olden.
Energy.
Inside our bodies are golden.
Energy.
A swirl of red.
Energy.
In a cloud, this is our bed.
Energy.
A force to call your own.
Energy.
You body has reaped what it has sown.
Energy.
If only you knew
How many of both my loving and aching poems
Were written because of you.
It's 10 PM and I can't fall asleep
Try as hard as I may
It's frustrating and I wonder why I
Can't have this energy in the day.
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