deepundergroundpoetry.com
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Though I play at words with glee
There’s something in your poesy
I cannot put my finger on
Insides massaged by a shared song
Bass lines rub like hands in dough
Toes ablaze from floor rainbow
Softest crack with rigid purpose
Plant a seed under your surface
Holding moisture in and then
We will grow the clouds again
There’s something in your poesy
I cannot put my finger on
Insides massaged by a shared song
Bass lines rub like hands in dough
Toes ablaze from floor rainbow
Softest crack with rigid purpose
Plant a seed under your surface
Holding moisture in and then
We will grow the clouds again
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