Sunday, February 13, 2011

It Was Too Soon.

The blow up air mattress gave way
When our bodies forced it
To let us make love.
You were persistent,
And I wanted again.
As it always goes,
You fell softly into dreams
While I twiddled and fussed
Why did I let myself
And now the blank slate
The fresh cotten of a thought
A possibility is dead
From two souls trying to heal
And stealing A moment
To feel more than
their aching hearts would allow.

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