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Jan 2017
Like the time you gave me
an extra sheet  
and it was like every night
we would sleep
Sweetly slipped amidst
late August's humid heat,
scent surrendered, greeting me
fragrantly, I breathe.
Between the kiss of fiber's weave,
I dream of how our lips meet,
likewise, underneath, silently;
find their way within the dark,
and wordlessly speak
in spite of distant train's
nighttime howling, screech, and screams;
us, entwined upon your rooftop,
framed by moonlit fringes of trees.
I drift into enraptured  
euphoria so deep,  
beside my violently
disordered debris,
in just the slightest touch and tease,
my vagrancy I leave.
I guess this is the first one I'll really clarify a meaning for because of some word play with the title, not that it matters to take any point into context but only to mention what I meant when I wrote it. It's quite literally about a night I had with a girl I'd just met where she had both given me some acid and we tripped together as well as giving me an extra blanket because I was broke and only had one at the time.
Andrew Crawford
Written by
Andrew Crawford  27/M/Ohio
   Maria Mitea and Bianca Reyes
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