the dance of the ink riddled fingers

the waiting game; playing games while waiting.

Posted in 52 pickup, pin the tail on the love, the poet-tree by enisea on 04/08/2011

Walk we will
To Pointless Hill
Or run through sun
To chase this thrill

We should not fear
The shadows, dear
For they keep us
Attached to here

We used to flirt
To roll through dirt
Now you drown me
In flattering gurt

I adored your charm
Your stupid wit
Your smiles and hold
Your awkward bits

You made me feel
A million high
Your words, they echoed
Through thoughts of mine

Shall I ignore
Your cruder words
Your careless spits
You know no purge

Your smokey air
Your tempting sin
You make me wish
I was mere skin

We clenched our fists
We bit our lips
And held each other
At fingertips

I think you felt
My apprehension
My practiced skill 
Of creating tension 

Whispers Wisdom
“He’ll do you wrong”
But I reply
“I won’t be long”

And bar desire
To explore in twos
I find myself
Afraid of you

So torn am I
Between two wants
Be safe and wise
Or fool in flaunts

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I get a tad tired
Of waiting for true.


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