Monday, January 3, 2011

I hear your voice riding on the backs of butterflies,
It’s fluttering around my organs clockwise.
This utter desire is taking its toll.
You fire up my insides.

Your fingertips are making patterns on my skin.
How long has it been?
Since you last traced your mouth along my neck?
Five weeks and I’m such a wreck.

Is your mind at ease through the quiet times?
Because in mine, our love story is on a loop.
Your face comes closer to my own and then swoops,
Down to the bottom of all of our feel good times.

How could something so beautiful be created to destroy?

I’m impressed by your resilience.
You were always so good at bending.
Well, I’m breaking and braving this.
And your hand is not there for lending.

So please don’t ever call my name,
Unless you are willing to shoulder some of this blame.
Get out of my way with your breakin’ heart ways.
I  can think of better things to do for the rest of my days.

Get out of my way with your breakin’ heart ways.
Out of my way.
Out of my way.

-M. Anderson (Written about a year ago)

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