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Literature Text
Does she think I don't remember her-
Her golden skin?
Her blue bird voice?
Yes, I remember the spiral of our feet
The sway of her hips
The bend of my back
The least intimate dance of imaginary lovers
Does she think I didn't notice we never knew the same space?
Of course my weeping heart,
my sighing heart,
always knew
Her golden skin?
Her blue bird voice?
Yes, I remember the spiral of our feet
The sway of her hips
The bend of my back
The least intimate dance of imaginary lovers
Does she think I didn't notice we never knew the same space?
Of course my weeping heart,
my sighing heart,
always knew
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© 2012 - 2024 Kill-Natalie
Comments3
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This expresses a lot of what I feel right now. It's lovely, Natalie. Thank you for posting this. In the favorites, as are most of your poems.