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poemhunter
If there is a beginning it is from the ending of our vows. In a flock of words I mumble some sort of an answer to the endless questions you keep asking me. There is one way or no way and every other way is false hope in an uncurled midnight stairway. Candles will not burn for they lack wicks and so they are picked up and fondled for the memories they seem to represent. I always have the same dream when I am sleeping on the couch. In it my jumping eyes flow to your hips. They take in your breasts bubbling in your bra. I fantasize about making love to you on the floor. Rough and ready, no sweet talk or music or foreplay. Just drop you down and force me in. My pleasure is all the justification I'll need to supply. I graze the back of your neck with a knife.Chris G. Vaillancourthttp://www.poemhunter.com/poem/secret-of-the-shift-key/
Chris G. VaillancourtSecret of the Shift Key
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