Crimson

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Him.
An idea I carry in my heart that morphs with time,
But to never really be understood,
Like an obscure language,
A new word at the tip of my tongue,
Thats waiting to be bitten into million little syllables,
That make love sounds and remind me of,

Him.

Making me realise what can be achieved,
When I whip my heart out and let him see,
All my nakedness in all its glory,
With his glare that flows between my legs,
Like a serpent travelling,
All over my mind like,

Him.

The one who smiles when I point to a globe,
Who tells me there’s a train that leaves for Paris,
Who’d pack me in a little rucksack like,
He wraps tobacco neatly with greens,
And takes sip of chai, joints and me,
All mixed together in a heady cocktail like,

Him.

A drug that can save humanity,
Who can make me believe that,
Silence can sometimes be so violent,
That strangers can be felt on your skin like air,
That blessed are the souls of the crazy,
That life is too short,
To let go of all my dreams with,

Him.

poetry, ageofloveWoman Gone Rogue