I never believed
in the innocence
buried somewhere
in my flesh;
it was a myth
twirled by nuns
or my mother.
And yet, as
I take yours
I cry as if
somewhere
in my heart
there is
a hymen
tearing.
I never believed in the innocence buried somewhere in my flesh; it was a myth twirled by nuns or my mother. And yet, as I take yours I cry as if somewhere in my heart there is a hymen tearing. |
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Comments
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oh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetry
I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr Shankly
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" ...he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
--
--
oh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetry
I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr Shankly
--
oh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetry
I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr Shankly
--
oh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetry
I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr Shankly
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