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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1025298
She likes to tell me things like this
The pink of her fingernails
Scraped against
The light brown of my beard
Why do you let it get so long-
Said she- you know I dont like it like that
Why do you let it get so long?
The room had taken on
The sultry smell of summer
And the clock ticked the day away
I don't know - I would tell you later on
By means of a half-hearted shrug
But at the moment you looked so perfect
And the sun hit the windows just right
The crowd from outside could be heard
In the room and made us feel
Anonymous and alone
And she rubbed her hand along my chin
-Why do you do that? she said
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