Sunday, April 22, 2012

if these pleasures may thee move

follow you down your twisting alleyways 
find a few cul-de-sacs of my own

Whispered talks beneath wizened oaks.
Knowing looks, when visiting our folks
We smile and words have been exchanged.
Nothing’s spoken, but the atmosphere has changed.
The inside jokes the world can’t understand,
Our silly words and romantic silly plans

My mouth is filled with cotton balls
I hope I still can laugh and talk
And act like nothing is actually happening
There’s an overwhelming amount of feelings that I hope I’m hiding well

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