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Wanderer Apr 2015
You have found a way inside
Like Virginia creeper climbing walls of stone
Only to find a crack in the foundation
That allows a taste of the unknown
Uncountable words drip from honeyed lips
Knowing that my sweet tooth
Has been sorely neglected
I fall
Hard
Grasping onto your nimble vines
Lengths that bind us
Piece by piece
I could pull on your roots to no avail
Anchored deep as the gravity between star and planet
It would take a meteor the size of our fair moon
To remove me from your embrace
Wanderer Apr 2015
This will not break me
I may posses a wooden heart
Which bobs along through tempest
And calm
But you'll never find me wrecked on the bottom
Weighed down
Fighting for air
Wanderer Apr 2015
I don't know you like I used to
Dove grey haze settles
In the air, swirling slide shows between us
I catch moonlit glances of your fevered advances
Stretching the fine edge of breaking free
You shutter me
Soft light bubbles pop against the backdrop
A sudden urge to laugh rises
The heavy burden of loss carried deep
This surface isn't what it used to be
I am not the same old me
  Mar 2015 Wanderer
Matthew Berkshire
Your brown eyes have such depth.
I wonder if I dove into them
how far I'd have to swim
before I didn't know
which way was up.

The abyss of your curls
surround me
pulling me under,
and I hardly struggle;
Just a few ripples,
and nothing like that lady in Jaws
with her ******* screams.

I'll take the proffered tentacle
- allowing you to lead me away
from this place.
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