Monday, October 29, 2012


To touch
To feel
To hold
To grab
To grasp firmly
In my clutch as I refuse to let go
Driven by the fascination
Of my inner impulsion
Released in a hulk like manner
As if nothing else would matter
But nothing does
Stroking you up and down
Backwards and forward
Delicate by nature
Blessed by your ancestors
Maybe mine as well
Dark as coal
If it stroked my feet
Jesus would weep
Tonight we sleep
Control I keep
Damn I love your hair

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