one first verse

December 28, 2012

She hardly manhandles me at all.

While, a fraction, I’m afraid I am fragile.

All, papermache voodoo doll.

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They’ll get in the way, the words.

While I set to say  what it’s worth.

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We’re past judgement, past & inside gates of heaven.

We agree; it’s seen as greener grass.

We announce; amorous answers, & resolve, at last.

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