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it seems easy to believe, in you and me when the promise of the light in your eyes, seeps through my indecision. my fingertips sliding across the palate of your every inch. the spaces i have touched painting, colors tracing my every outline, intertwining between all the small details that define us. red, like fire, conviction, spreading across my chest with blinding heat. echos of animosity, as the lingering flames crawl across the embers they once drew upon. blue, breaking against waves of progress, aches washing away with each pull of the moon. White froths of inspiration. the sun lay just above, you see? forrest green, branching through my veins. spinning life through my every corner. your skin like spring, leaves falling to my feet as you pull away once more. grey, inhibitions. tears, wrong way signs, fails and falters, dancing themselves into a web, tangling me into your response. deep rust, connection. iron lending to our foundation. a place to plot the seeds of what could be. a place to rest our old souls, once our bodies can longer be seen.
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May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
The lovers spectrum of color
it seems easy to believe, in you and me when the promise of the light in your eyes, seeps through my indecision. my fingertips sliding across the palate of your every inch. the spaces i have touched painting, colors tracing my every outline, intertwining between all the small details that define us. red, like fire, conviction, spreading across my chest with blinding heat. echos of animosity, as the lingering flames crawl across the embers they once drew upon. blue, breaking against waves of progress, aches washing away with each pull of the moon. White froths of inspiration. the sun lay just above, you see? forrest green, branching through my veins. spinning life through my every corner. your skin like spring, leaves falling to my feet as you pull away once more. grey, inhibitions. tears, wrong way signs, fails and falters, dancing themselves into a web, tangling me into your response. deep rust, connection. iron lending to our foundation. a place to plot the seeds of what could be. a place to rest our old souls, once our bodies can longer be seen.
sienna-burroughs
Written by
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
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