pieces of her

her fingers
tracing the patterns
on my back
the feel of
her fingertips on
my skin awakens
my soul.
I fall,
looking into her soul
the world goes             
black, and I
feel whole.
soft, warm.
anticipation can kill,
and I would die
everyday, for
the dream, a
lost hope, a
hope to kiss.
not a model,
to the social world
at least.  To me,
in my world, however
as close to perfect as
i dare dream          
pure, I dont know
dont care to know
lost in her world
a place i could
forever live
in peace

-For Miranda-       


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