Freedom to do anything
you want
is chained to the fog
at six forty five in the morning
when the streets smell like
every foreign and familiar
smell. Hug me close
and cry after sixteen
years of absence.
I feel your loss
squeeze me tight
make death in your
eyes disappear
and help me breathe
in the cracks of your soul.
It looks like Paris stems from
your aura, and this city is
in my fourteen year old
gut. Revoke my love,
press my lies on
an ironing board
refresh me
spray your love
and essence on my skin.
No one waits for the flood
but me. Open my arms
to your tide.
Only you could have written that. Help me breathe in the cracks of your soul. Its lines that, that make you one of the best of Blogville.
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Blogville, love that!! thank you so much x
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