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have i stolen your Eden
as i burrowed your skin,
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I did not ask for that effortless moment
when I saw you;
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Romance cloaked, intends deceiving, traps my heart and sends me reeling,
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a girl once told me
if i could catch the sea
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i will not say i am broken by your glance
i do not have a fragile edge
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between long flights
and midnight excursions
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In those lavender hues
how your arms come round me again
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If I were sitting for a portrait
I would think of her,
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you bring me
to the point of extinction
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Before I come charging in
on a modestly large
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There is a girl,
she sends me poetry
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I recall the twitch of the limb
in my hands,
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decision made,
this day is a little less dreary
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I sell brushes to old ladies
who paint their doors blue,
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There is nothing but distance in a photograph,
a still life of pretty,
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How can I explain the effects of your whispers?
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What is it about today, and the silent sheet
of hypocrisy you’ve made into a hood?
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I am a widower to the topography
of your skin.
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I tousle my conscience for the love of a woman
named Benevolent. She sings the name
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There are no eyes to see
the truth of you as woman,
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Far off,
in a country not my own
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The moment I noticed
your chin set against me,
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Love speaks through small sighs,
and quiet forgiving.
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I recall our first walk
along an avenue of noise,
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Standing on the precipice;
three inch crimson stilettos
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In the verdant green canopy,
shade of flame.
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Should I know your name,
I would love you in that way
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There is no escaping how you banish
all fear in most of living.
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