MY PASSION; LOVE
Have you absolutely loooooong for something you couldn’t, never have?
Counting, waiting, expecting, imploring, exasperating, disoriented
That certain, sort of expectation, the ones that keeps you up as infantile
Of the nature once it sucks you in sends you on the trail of mysteries and lost winks
That was it of her I inhaled with us at the playground, and never found enough air
Spending days at the library, the beach, cooling off at bars, sailing the ocean, since air sick
I was the perfect undergraduate for everything they say about the devoted and the longing
Imagination ever wired, stuporous daydreaming: lips spouting; rhythmically synching
When I think now about her, that very tinny play chum with the long raven hair
Of her rosy, mouthwatering, chubby cheeks, her freckles, her red-earth spattering face
The lips, as they lusciously, luxuriously move; at masticating, conversing, revealing
Her eyes; the sparkling in amazement, excitement, adoration; piercing, grasping, shattering
Then, we sliced; before I told her to hold on, wait with me, that adventure was on its way
If I could, I would send us back in time, tell her all the delightful things of her I miss now
That I’m the perfect consort for the bored, the restless; the her; who long for excitement-not he
Judge me not of depraved facetiousness taking to the point of silliness, she is my lost passion.
Counting, waiting, expecting, imploring, exasperating, disoriented
That certain, sort of expectation, the ones that keeps you up as infantile
Of the nature once it sucks you in sends you on the trail of mysteries and lost winks
That was it of her I inhaled with us at the playground, and never found enough air
Spending days at the library, the beach, cooling off at bars, sailing the ocean, since air sick
I was the perfect undergraduate for everything they say about the devoted and the longing
Imagination ever wired, stuporous daydreaming: lips spouting; rhythmically synching
When I think now about her, that very tinny play chum with the long raven hair
Of her rosy, mouthwatering, chubby cheeks, her freckles, her red-earth spattering face
The lips, as they lusciously, luxuriously move; at masticating, conversing, revealing
Her eyes; the sparkling in amazement, excitement, adoration; piercing, grasping, shattering
Then, we sliced; before I told her to hold on, wait with me, that adventure was on its way
If I could, I would send us back in time, tell her all the delightful things of her I miss now
That I’m the perfect consort for the bored, the restless; the her; who long for excitement-not he
Judge me not of depraved facetiousness taking to the point of silliness, she is my lost passion.
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