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Image for the poem I stole his crispy white shirt, and left him my little black dress to wear…

I stole his crispy white shirt, and left him my little black dress to wear…

Love, is a strange thing.    
    
One minute, I’m stuck in the aftermath of a moment as remnants of his unborn babies seep out of me, and all I can think about, was I should’ve swallowed those little angels to enable us to birth something less risky, instead of an unplanned pregnancy that screams after pill.      
     
And the next, it dawns upon me when he’s making promises I know he can’t keep whilst I’m pondering the subtle rage that comes from watching your leading man take a secondary role, particularly as some untalented & undeserving little fucker takes the lead role, in fuck knows how that ever happened.  
   
Screening soon, in a cinema near you.    
     
And we both giggle at the blatant fuckery as I nudge him whilst keeping his dirty little secret a secret, and our little white lies are more than evident, noting the rising sun in my Pisces/ Aries cusp is far too intense for his Capricorn.      
     
Opposites, attract until they don’t, I guess.      
     
Even though, I swear I’m an Aries despite being on the cusp but it’s more than evident that I swing like a pendulum, and I find solace being drenched in the sunlight whilst he prefers to be consoled beneath the glow of moonlight, upon a full moon.    
     
Other times, gazing at the canopy of stars that threaten to swaddle him with love, and unspeakable things like playing sword fights in the dark whilst blindfolded, but I digress as I wasn’t blessed with his brand of creativity.    
     
He’d give you the shirt upon his back if ever needed, however; I stole his crispy white shirt, and I swore it meant nothing as I found him wearing my little black dress, after he sent me to the gift shop in the foyer of some Shangri La in whatever the fuck city he wanted it to be at the time.      
     
Noting, I can’t see the exquisite beauty of nature without the sun shining a light upon such because the nights are made for illuminating yourself upon another, whilst climbing those inner walls, and breaking the sound barrier in not so hushed primal tones until you’re nothing but a rubescent shade of hot & sweaty.

Seeded, and finding new ways to avoid a wet spot, which comes easy when you’re not wedded and crucified solely upon missionary, and we travel to untouched coastal places with deserted beaches.

Evidently, I find peace in letting go of temporary things that I can’t have & hold, for better or worst.
shadow_starzzz
Written by shadow_starzzz
Published
Author's Note
https://youtu.be/5ogUKZXBMUQ
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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