I should never use a cliché
but
I should have known betterpops into my head
like a jack-in-the-box
repeating itself
on an old vinyl Zeppelin
drugs
innocence
at the back of my fuzzy mind
but I don’t want to know better
I want to feel it all
every touch not touched
every orgasm
needing to escape
all of my senses
immersed in yours
when I run away
don’t be hurt
it’s my head
pretending she knows it all
when she knows jack shit
when she puts up all the walls
like tiny pieces of Lego
all around her heart
for no one ever saw her soul
but Him
and now You.
Be gentle.
for clichés
are starting to run my life.

3 thoughts on “Cliché

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