my head toss
towards the half open window
is my half veiled attempt
at telling you
not to worry about it,
I'm not mad.
not mad.
so mad.
the concrete lit view of burlingame
blurs
in favor of hair-swept, neckline kisses.
your arms hold me.
& I hold your arms.
dreams
about rooftops
and walking on them.
A contest entry
- WHATEVER by tarcus.
400 points, ended September 13, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Really nice stuff dear.
& haha at the capitals comment.
It's sad when people can't appreciate an individual's style.

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Needs some of the capitals looking at otherwise not a bad attempt I think!


