you should be more careful,
when you move, my dear
what with you...
spilling moonlight
into my poem, with a mere...
flick of your hand,
scattering the beehive…
of my thoughts
with just one lazy,
careless gaze,
your smile...splitting the skies
into a million golden
and turquoise verses
with your hair in the breeze
always leaving me scattered...
all over the place
in dewy-dreamed,
peony-cheeked
poetry-drops of you. |
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