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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2172725
A poem; I wrote for him
When you spin me in the middle of the dance floor, it’s the color of my dress. When I whisper in your ear, it’s the color of my lips. When we make love , it’s the trace you’re hoping I leave behind. When I place my palm over your heart, it’s the color that expands over my fingertips. It’s the color of an unfinished sentence, the color that pierces the atmosphere. When you look into my eyes the last time it’s the color that follows behind, but it’s never the color you see when I leave.
© Copyright 2018 A. Woods (mookychick at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2172725