Saturday, October 15, 2011

I prefer the dirt

every drop feels like the first

slapping my face

leaving scars

so it seems

second place is my place

scratching the paint with my moans

i remember losing

my eight millionth breath

the second our smiles met

path changers tip toe to my feet

look me in the eye

knock me to my knees

leave me there, please

i prefer the dirt over the breeze

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