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Sep 2014
My heart is bestowed again.
Returning to the room I see her nestled
In a heap of a  super soft blanket,
The burrowed belle in an ethereal dressing.

I would never sneak or speak or break
This gentle and harmonious blessing of
Beauty and majesty so bountiful. The amour
Wand has blessed us both, I only wonder if
We both receive the spoils of the miserly.

Miserable no more. My lips swept by sunflower-colored
Gold canvas blonde hair strands, wet with shower water
From a departure excited by her own palpitations.

My  only nightmare is sweetness. There can be no sign of
Hallmark gestures. No buzz of cuteness or cleverness.
I may only sew that which unfolds as a stain. As someone special
She must never suspect nonsense. I may never relay it. And still Between everything that has happened between us.

She only needs three moments to be soundlessly asleep.
Me I may weep but she keeps in the alluvial grave of
Sleep I continue to induce for her, tracing my finger around your
Earlobe. My pinky swipes the cool white
Martin Narrod
Written by
Martin Narrod  38/M/CA
(38/M/CA)   
395
 
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