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Dec 2015
Gentle waves.
Rolling hums.
Things are hazy
and I am breaking
into crisp pieces of fall.
Your breath is heavy like watered-down air and I am just a raindrop.
Just warm tea.
There are no cold puddles here.
Only two burning bodies and an unlit fire.
I lost the fireplace.
Maybe you just stole its flames.
Maybe the sea turned into its salt
and all of the fish turned into birds.
Maybe God is here.
The leaves are on the ground
and I am falling for you.
Heavy sighs.
Hard petting.
Don't stop dancing circles around me, please.
The sheets aren't sticking to us yet.
The Sensual Series
Britt Nichole
Written by
Britt Nichole  Bentonville
(Bentonville)   
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