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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #2250135
wishing I understood how others are so comfortable in their own skin
When you wind kisses down the length of my ribs,
cross my hip,
follow my curves,
that long-quiet part of my heart
stirs.
Feels confused, like waking to snow in april.
Clinging to branches, and petals,
unwelcome, yet beautiful.
Fleeting.

It catches my breath.
It calls for me to break the moment.
I stretch from end to end,
and it whispers to me,
'if someone makes you feel something,
let them...'


But later,
when the lights are still on.
And you can see all of me.
But you don't know me yet...
you still do this simple thing.
This tender
thing.
Playful. Intimate. Caring.
This terrifies me.
You don't even know me.
Please don't love this version of me.
You don't even know me.
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