What I Wouldn't Do

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What I wouldn't do
for that sweat to be for me,
head lowered,
bitten lower lip,
eyes closed,
ecstasy closer,
pushing you over
with a brush of nail
gently, so gently
over flesh.

What I wouldn't do
for the howling wind
to take me up high
and float me
over the trees,
over the water,
into that room
and brighten with a smile
only my joy would bring
(or so I've been told)
for more than a day,
for every second
left in my life.

What I wouldn't do
to choose differently
from that night
when I stopped trying
to listen
to know
to hope
and to love
what I couldn't see,
to truly believe
reality would match
this fantasy.

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3 Comments
Syndra LynnSyndra Lynnalmost 20 years ago
Excellent poem

Nice job.

jthserrajthserraalmost 20 years ago
An erotic beginning...

that wanes in the longing. An excellent lament on what we once had, that we now miss terribly. Very good...

jim : )

tarablackwood22tarablackwood22almost 20 years ago
Greatly...

...enjoyed this...."What I wouldn't do for that sweat to be me"!!!...That opening is a strong hook, and forced me to read closely.

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