I feel fine-tuned, delicate,
every part of me wound,
wanting to be unsprung.

Maybe just a clinging vine,
winding my way ’round,
tendrils unfurling sunward,

or a tender, fragile bud
waiting to be pressed open
by the heat of your breath,
the weight of your world


I am blooming, fragrant, wild,
exposed and trembling
in your hands.

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bySelena_Kitt© 1 comments/ 9856 views/ 0 favorites

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