Christina Strigas

Sun against my skin
warming up my haunted soul
drips of you
slowly leaking out.
Oh my love, I’m driving
to a dead end street
as thoughts of you
overtake my rationale.
I feel restless how we argue
about who hurts more
or who loves less.
I cannot believe
you speak like the plains
yet full of doubt.
I will plant forget-me-nots pour toi
mon amour
because you saw me first
you’ll forget me first
I will suffer as I did before I met you
relate nothing to me
for is there a point to fights?
when all we want to do
is rip off our clothes
the look of my skirt
an open invitation
to your mysterious hands.

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6 thoughts on “Like the plains

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