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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1318839
January 13 2005 AD
The things you do to me make me want to cry.
Scream in to the night.
My God, how can anything feel that good?

When we talk t feel so good.
You make me feel whole again,
like I’m O Kay.

Sitting here remembering my past,
I know how unique you are.

No one has ever burned and consumed me,
and yet, makes me whole again.

The warmth from the brush of your fingers lingers all night long.
Your voice echo’s in my mind.
The little smirk you give me drives me mad.

What gives you this amazing power,
how can this be?
What has become of me?

© Copyright 2007 Jeni Breen (jenibreen at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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