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Saturday, November 12, 2005


a fool of a fantasist, is all that i am.

yet, as sleep slowly descends,
lying warm and content,
she is there,
hovering above me.

a brush of lips,.
a pressing warmth on my chest,
with eyes closed
each moment of touch,
an eternity.

illusion need not be empty.


1 comment:

Velo Bella said...

see...its not so bad being a fantasist.