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Matthew Rodarte Aug 2014
Your fluttering eyes,
highly magnetic,
That simply grasping gaze,
light bellowing cheeks,
soothing for my skin,
Lavishing lips,
a kiss could prove it all,

A silent face,
as we sleep,
presences collide,
we sing,
no imperfection in sight,
a moment near,
a moment here,
my gentle hand,
an embellishing introduction,
to a kiss,

Closer in mass we collide,
a grasping hold,
I shall never let go,
in twine,
I hope this lasts,
One word only comes to mind,
Infinite,
Though I’d be happy even if you stayed past nine.

— The End —