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you’re the voice in my brain
my conscience to abstain
from the recklessly insane thoughts
i tend to maintain

you’re the cure to my pain
the taste of sugarcane
i plug you into my veins
till i feel alive again

you’re the crown to my reign
and the anchor to my chain.
you’re the only reason i sustain
to see another day.
her figure flows
like an ocean
tossing blue waves
in her hair;

her curves look like
they’re dancing
even when she’s
standing still.

she’s a femme fatale
with a thick
glass bottom,

brown eyes
and cellulite
sculpted from
a buxom bottle.
machu picchu,
my mountain of a man.
your sturdy broad shoulders
match your strong rough hands.
i get scratches on my cheeks when i summit to the peak;
exhausted from the cardio and dopamine depleted.
its always a good time being a tourist in your city.
ill be sure to come again.
i thought my thoughts were justified
but who’s the judge of our own minds?
what goes on behind the scenes?
a puppet master pulling strings?
im left to question my integrity.
her eyes were the color of burnt sienna
arched over pools of black.
she had the smell of chimney on her breath
and wrinkles like flowing smoke around her lips.
she looked an age only defined by sullen experience, matured from countless wakeful nights.
its impossible to guess just how many years her face met the pillow
and the pillow soaked her tears.
im just a girl
who loves other girls,
but im in love with a boy
and i can’t keep my head straight.
if you were a lego
id still step on you.
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