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sing my song.
use the angels tone as you remember our hands touching like
the feathers of a dove.
hold on to the fact that this isnt love.
this isnt lust
this is the human holding on to the strings of its own reality .
the ideas of hate fading into the background.
use your hands to craft amazing things.
but use your voice to proclaim your stunning ideals.
make me fall for you.
like the feather of a dove i will soon fall away.
dont give me the memory of your hand if you plan to pull it away.
because as the feather falls it might soon be picked up to be put into the headdress of women with just enought time to make it fit.
but our shared emotions might be enough to engulf me in the passions of flame more powerful that the strength of my frail form.
and nobody wants a burnt feather in there headress.
if you plan on  extending your hand to me. then do so knowing that i am a fragile feather,  attached to you, because every angel needs a set of wings.
When you grow tired of me, make sure to let me fall slowly. so that when i am used in the lining of someone elses memories, they can use me as they need.
I am a feather. something that is used for other peoples needs and desires.
when you grow old and remember me, just remember to sing the feathers song.
it starts with your name.
and ends with mine.
sing my song.
just thought id right something not depressing for once lol
I'll *******
if you want
because I want it too
I want your hot breath on my neck
as you come closer to me in the middle of the night
or day
I want the stubble of your chin on my thighs
when you explore my body
I want pressure between our hips
as we toss and turn in the sheets
playfully
violently
silently
And when it's done
I'll tell you 'I love you'
but you don't need to reply
even though I know you will
Just nudge me with your nose
or graze me with you fingers
*(inspired by elbows and knees)*
 Jan 2015 Myles Web
Erianna Hill
I like to play the fool sometimes.
I know that may sound wrong, but at least its true.
its like I know what you do when you’re not around, but I’m not worried about that cause when you are around... its like magic.

I feel some type of way when you look me in my eyes, but I look away, cause you caught me by surprise. Then I smile and you smile and laughs and blushes follow, and I think to myself, “I hope its just like this tomorrow”. But I keep looking away cause I don’t want you to know, how much I truly care and how much I dont show. Cause when you look me in my eyes, I just know you can see through me, and read every thought and judge every scrutiny. I heard eyes are like windows, so I keep my shutters closed. To never be opened, less within be exposed.

And then you touch me..

Oh, when you touch me, my senses ignite. every taste, sight, smell, touch, sound is sampled, seen, felt, smelled, and heard. My heart goes into overdrive and the tingling tries to override my body, but I won’t let it. So I pretend that it doesn’t affect me.

Cause its like, if you knew. if you only knew.
If you knew how I thought and how I felt, would you think and feel the same?
Or are you already there and my pride won’t let me show truth.

But you can’t be..

Cause when I’m not with you, I see you making someone else smile like I do. and I wonder “Does she really know you?” cause I sure do and to be completely honest, theres nothing in the world that can stop me from loving you. and I hope and pray that one day you could love me too.

So again, I say.
I like to play the fool sometimes
 Jan 2015 Myles Web
Erianna Hill
No one understands me.
I'm an intricate, unsolvable maze.
I'm a grain of sand lost among the shadows.
A particle caught up in the haze.

No one understands me.
I'm rocket science to a child.
a rubiks cube with ten colors.
The leader of parliament in the wild.

No one understands me.
I'm undefined by the laws of physics.
I'm illegible handwriting.
Undecomoposable by chemists.

No one understands me.
except the words on the page.
the thoughts of the mind.
The music on the stage.
 Jan 2015 Myles Web
Erianna Hill
Life is made up of complicated simplicities.
Never meant to understand its confusion,
May it be real or imaginary in this world of duplicity.

— The End —