Monday, 15 November 2010

You're Not All That I Can't Get Out My Head

Obsessed, addicted, I’m unsure.
A craving of desire for your touch and for, the smoke
that is blinding, to our senses and our insides.

Take me, again, faster this time.
Wrap up securely for the dark winter light, the smoke
will save us now, from our senses and our insides.

So fresh, the smell, a smile grows.
This is what our lives live from until it shows, the smoke
that we survive, with our senses and our insides.

It feels so different, from anything,
a new found love for our intimate sharing, my love
it surrounds me, or our senses and our insides.

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