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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Other · #1671216
A dream translated into somehting that might be a poem
And red nails dragged over tanned skin, under fluorescent light.
Soft sighs and bodies entwined filled the room with echoing sounds.
Confessed passion, suppressed, undisclosed lust, whispered
against overheated lips, chapped, raw, wanting.
Vice-like grips on ruined hearts,
breaking slowly, under haunting smiles
bleeding black, through unseen cracks.
Beating weakly, rhythms of unspoken pasts
© Copyright 2010 Mariam Akmal (mariamakmal at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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