Thursday, July 21, 2016

Beautiful woman, you fix the walk of an ivory dancer,
your lip sticks its flag in the clouds,
you put a sticky curve in all the telephone poles,
you make the wires groan,
you make my loving pen need to write you down,
your intelligence makes me kick my books,
your face is the apple that silence ate, for itself,
in a hall where my heart does not wander.

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