Saturday, 4 September 2010

Love's Young Dream

Each day i pray for lies and love i havn't commited,
Words that castrate and strangle my heart from my throat,
Cold forgotton fingers fighting for lovesick angst. 
I envy the word's worlds i create in my head, that each night i tuck into bed, and feed the hurgry leeches more with each longing glance at the-boy-sat-next-door.
With his rolled up sleeves and untouched jeans.
Heart and head pumping like machines,
I type and i type, fingers ache, write of heartbreak
The violent visions of wanting more
Love's young dream, like never before.

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