5:13 p.m. And I couldn'tSo my fingers itched for a pen Just to write your nameto see it, reassure myself of your existenceI stopped to laugh look at mewriting sappy poetry I never thought I'd see the dayBut here's the truth Itching fingersFor your face For your bodyFor the slick depths of you. In the back of my mindOn the tip of my tongue The soft pads of my fingertipsI can feel you Egads. I don't write poetry, but... Such a strange and joyful turmoil she creates.
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