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 Jul 2013 Sybl
PJ
Curfew
 Jul 2013 Sybl
PJ
My curfew is twelve

And tonight I ran home barefoot
Because my mother does not tolerate
Lateness, so it's 11:55 and I'm drunk
Running and wanting to
Stop because my feet are
Sore, but
I know if I'm late home I will miss a
Weekend of you, so when I run
With each footstep into gravel,
I think of the kisses
You put on my cheek, and
Run even faster,
Knowing I can't take another day
Without your gentle cheek
Kisses
Roughest of the drafts
Edit in the morning
you
oh, you
you that fills every layer of me
you that stains my skin and heart just by being; you who is a part of me
you who's lips taste like the remains of last nights cigarettes and the transferred aroma of my morning coffee
and oh, those lips that brush my skin, and make my hairs stand on end; and the beat of my heart quicken
and unhealthy it might be, that you leave me unable to sleep, unable to breathe without your sweet company
but that will never cease my desire
you, with your limitless potential; never seen by your own eyes, but
oh my it is there
you that transports me to a new universe entirely by a quick glance

my sunrise; and reason for the sun rising each and every day; for what is the point without beauty for the suns rays to rest upon
my muse; for what is poetry without inspiration
me; for what am i without you

you and your imperfect perfections, of which i could never match; but still i try
and oh, there are some that write better; always use the right words
and think more deeply
but there are none who love more passionately, entirely
than yours, truly

— The End —