blather
i_wouldn't_need_to_wish
squint her photos all pout
matte finish VS the glossy truth,
that which bathes upon her lips
is a string of unabashed honesty,
the one thing
I won't deny
as the ultimate comfort
when we kiss
--the veracity swims through me
like a trite
simile.
And though her reality
of vampires and black clothing
might have hidden layers
of white clouds and whimsy,
her eyes try to hide halfway closed
buried under the thick black
of a childhood gone wrong,
caked with expensive camoflage--
she wears so much black
she might just blend into herself,
until you fall
into the blue
of the glassy clear eyes
she refuses to hide completely,
a little sincerity never killed anyone.
I could write about desire
and I could long
for her constant touch
fixed upon my
in between body,
but I wouldn't need
to wish.
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