Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Brick.

Sure 'bout the coiffure,
she swiveled and swerved,
just when she felt I saw her,
Hardly had another ever known.
Gift wrapped in expression,
sweating hands 'neath her wings,
for within the spiraling distance
neither was forthcoming.
Because ego states crashed,
much vermeil than looks I wore,
and so we slowly broke apart;
as she lay sanguine to the floor.

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