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Kewayne Wadley Dec 2016
The forecast projected snow and immediately I thought of her,
Not necessarily in a way that a blanket provides warmth, although she is quite warm and that would be the perfect reason to stay in come to think about it.
Upon hearing the forecast, I thought of her in the most spontaneous way that snow falls.
Giving all of itself asking for nothing in return.
That in a world of premeditated notion, she is one of the only things
that falls freely.
Giving a glimpse of how beautiful she truly is.
Sprinkling bits of herself in a way not thought possible.
Without care to where and when she falls, she was a free spirit.
Leaving a piece of herself everywhere she stepped.
Her powdered steps turning slick, a quick glimpse of how silly she is.
That slip and fall that makes you resent the ice.
Last Winter I slipped constantly, finding myself falling deeper each and every time she fell.
Maybe it was the thrill, knowing that she was there to catch me.
All is fair in love and war, but the touch of cold hands after taking forever to get warm is never fun.
Probably best I buy her a blanket this Christmas
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2016
With nothing to drink,
I grabbed her and put her in my glass.
Leaving her arm hanging out
Softly stirring her around.
Nothing else was needed outside of that moment.
A woman whom was patient, self sufficient, tender.
A woman whom could make me put away my pride and admit in an otherwise advanced situation.
That I had nothing to drink.
After a while water gets boring.
Sodas complicate the simplest of things.
I needed something new.
Something that could quench my thirst with no never-mind involved.
Without the need for ice,
She was the solution to all my problems.
Placing her inside of a glass.
Devouring her sip by sip
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2016
I was goofy in love,
That sort of sarcastic your **** but I need you type of love.
That lounge around in underwear all day not afraid to be myself love.
In all seriousness, I wore nothing but her.
Smothering my nose in her hair. More commonly a set of areolas.
She was a character, sometimes rambling through my t-shirts.
Sliding her arms through loose hanging sleeves.
Pushing all of her hair to one side of her head, making silly faces.
Actually quite a scary thing to see, At that moment I prayed to God thanking him that she had a full head of hair. Although admitting that her left eye looking at the right one was kind of ****. Especially with her tongue cocked to the side.
A smile ofter kept me out of trouble.
Although admittedly I'd avoid certain questions,
She was that big head pretty girl whom believed she was always right, even when she was wrong.
I loved telling her no.
Even when I meant yes. The first time was an accident. The next twelve hundred just became habit.
The concept really wasn't as vague as it sounds.
Honestly, I am a good guy.
I just loved dancing on her nerves from time to time.
The crinkles that formed around her nose as she turned red.
Especially in public, I'd always tell the cashier or waitress that she was abusive.
Often locking me in the closet.
That I was her *** slave and this would be the only time she'd let me leave the house. That she held me hostage, to only refer to her as mistress when we're out and about.
Either that or I'd push her on random isles of a store and yell shoplifter.
It was always something crazy with us.
Grabbing a foam sword and constantly poke her in the *** until ultimately she'd just stop walking.
Other women felt her pain.
Laughing before revealing intriguing conversations about their men and how they would always leave them at home.
Kewayne Wadley Nov 2016
To the princess trapped in the glass bottle.
Take a few steps back, I'm going to bust the glass and catch you before you fall.
If all else fails, at least we'll have this memory to stand  above all else.
I've walked passed you once before,
I never thought to stop.
Reason,
Your lips turned up right, eyes quick to roll.
The silent treatment of turned backs. Ill gotten tempers.
I never once thought through all the complications that the glass was actually dingy.
That you actually could have been tired of being passed up because of how high up you were, the trouble of broken glass.
Jagged grooves. Smooth binges, blind understatements.
I applogize on my behalf,
The labels aren't anywhere as good as they use to be. but I promise.
If you make that silly face one more time.
That one face that equates to "duh"
I'm throwing this rock right at your head.
If you were anymore transparent, I could swear you just rolled your eyes again

— The End —