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A thousand kisses touch my lips and flit away Melancholic butterflies seeking nectar from other empty flowers Delectable ambrosia? Perhaps — But leaving the tongue fleetingly Donating only bitter aftertaste. No recollection comes to mind with ease — I think I left cold beds with unturned sheets — Most satisfied to bear the preface “tease.” Mechanics are too easy to repeat: I could write a manual; pen all the intricacies of falsified intimacy. Flirtation and coy downward gazes — Pegs in a game I’ve mastered — Then when confessions come of great desire I bite my tongue so as not to repeat “I know.” I use the piles of hearts to step upon my pedestal Watching with disinterest as the numbers rise. My captives swear so many hollow oaths — and all I’ve heard before — Uninformed adoration turns to white noise. - June 07 2014.
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC
The Queen's Apathy
A thousand kisses touch my lips and flit away Melancholic butterflies seeking nectar from other empty flowers Delectable ambrosia? Perhaps — But leaving the tongue fleetingly Donating only bitter aftertaste. No recollection comes to mind with ease — I think I left cold beds with unturned sheets — Most satisfied to bear the preface “tease.” Mechanics are too easy to repeat: I could write a manual; pen all the intricacies of falsified intimacy. Flirtation and coy downward gazes — Pegs in a game I’ve mastered — Then when confessions come of great desire I bite my tongue so as not to repeat “I know.” I use the piles of hearts to step upon my pedestal Watching with disinterest as the numbers rise. My captives swear so many hollow oaths — and all I’ve heard before — Uninformed adoration turns to white noise. - June 07 2014.
victoria-maretti
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC
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