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If I swore to tell you           (wild eyed and breathless) of what lies inside my pandora's box     the blue velvet decaying     under my flesh           the whispers in my head           like supple breeze           through follow oaks              (eerily adrift) would you still dare hold me at the dusty ledge of this 85-storey high building (my crumbling paper body) as the concrete cracks submissively and the walls fall apart instinctively because i would give up the last of my flicker to light your final cigarette and make your lonely bed warm If i held your echoing heart                    in my hands   (with frantic devotion) as it throbs rhythmically in these fire brick palms    propagating at a frequency    of long found anxiety a dim soul trapped in an antique olive wood clock (tick tock tick) would you dare still trust me to dance with those charred demons (your most profound secrets) the ones sworn to be memories of disgust the bad taste at the back end of your tongue buried deeper in the Earth for Hell to bare and hoard because i trust you to embrace the flaws we share and tears we didnt (but most of all) the discovery of our story rapidly unfolding in this unashamed polluted atmosphere
0
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
Poems to a lover (002)
If I swore to tell you           (wild eyed and breathless) of what lies inside my pandora's box     the blue velvet decaying     under my flesh           the whispers in my head           like supple breeze           through follow oaks              (eerily adrift) would you still dare hold me at the dusty ledge of this 85-storey high building (my crumbling paper body) as the concrete cracks submissively and the walls fall apart instinctively because i would give up the last of my flicker to light your final cigarette and make your lonely bed warm If i held your echoing heart                    in my hands   (with frantic devotion) as it throbs rhythmically in these fire brick palms    propagating at a frequency    of long found anxiety a dim soul trapped in an antique olive wood clock (tick tock tick) would you dare still trust me to dance with those charred demons (your most profound secrets) the ones sworn to be memories of disgust the bad taste at the back end of your tongue buried deeper in the Earth for Hell to bare and hoard because i trust you to embrace the flaws we share and tears we didnt (but most of all) the discovery of our story rapidly unfolding in this unashamed polluted atmosphere
copperots
Written by
Malaysian
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
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