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Aug 2015
My fingers are electric
when I touch them to your skin.
It's as though we're magnetic.
Now that doesn't make sense,
but neither do we.

I scrawl these words
across your chest.
I hope that they burn
and make you confess.

We are a funny fit
-does it make you want to run for it?
Petite Parcel
Written by
Petite Parcel  England
(England)   
296
 
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