Very creative
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it’s a tiny word,
respect, and, after all, what does it mean? a creeping,
crawling word that
remembers to rinse the empty
can of cat
food, that didn’t call for its scripts on time, that knows
if you keep doing the same thing, you will keep getting the same
results. and why not? why the body, the heart, must leap,
but no one knows how to get there, or when trust (and success)
will come, or that to pass into your lover’s body, you must let
them pass into
yours. rolling round in the straw
will take out the kinks–yes, your heart matters; I want a big bed
covered with white
linens, a vase of fresh roses on the window ledge & the window
open to salt breeze, english town from Hardy &
your body shining under mine–bad girl, or
not.
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copyright © 2013, The Rag Tree
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