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Jan 2014 · 1.0k
Rip Up the Paper
Connor Manion Jan 2014
It is women like you that make me question love.
You should mean nothing to me.
Another injured woman who doesn’t know enough about life to even love herself,
A wandering soul too afraid of true happiness to even begin looking for it.
You’re a slave of society, a puppet to your own self worth and an ambassador of moral ambiguity.
So why do I love you?
Why does my heart jump every time your name is said?
No. No not said. Sung.
It dances into my ear and makes my body sway. I feel light.
Why does my blood run warm when you draw near?
And why can’t my eyes stay clear of your face.
I didn’t even find you attractive before.
But now.
God now your body is so enticing it’s a wonder I’m not wrapped around you already.
And why?
You aren’t the nicest girl,
Not the sweetest,
You definitely weren’t made for me.
In fact, you couldn’t be more wrong for me if logic had a say.
But I’m sitting here staring at my ceiling and instead of white I see a deep drown.
The brown of your eyes…staring at me fondly.
You swim through my dreams and float through my mind with the greatest of ease,
Like a leaf dancing in the wind.
If my heart were a maze You would know the way through it forwards and backwards,
And I dare say you’d know a few shortcuts as well.
You see my soul like you see your own reflection.  
Its beauties and faults entwined…..
Maybe that is why I love you.
Jan 2014 · 634
A Dream
Connor Manion Jan 2014
This is a dream:

I wake up to a rich, high pitch laughter
My nose tickles and I open my eyes,
Brown curls dance about my face,
And an angel smiles at me.

Soft lips meet my lips
And fingertips entwine.
Soft ******* upon my chest,
And short breath upon my cheek.

I stare into deep brown pools,
Warmth surrounds me fully.
I pause to take in what surrounds me,
I am playing with happiness that is not mine.

I sigh, breath deeply and open my eyes again

That….was a dream

— The End —