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Dare to be Fluffy
You told me once,
that when with him – you never thought of me,
it was only presence, my eye glazed with pretence,
that you felt something – what…I’m not sure of,
guilt, affection, pity or whim,
something deeper than darker water,
for I was never quite him –
I am me, quite simply,
based on jagged metaphors,
I’m like a cliff without a sea,
no one to part me,
or eat me way,
with salt and sea spray,
that remind me – I’m mortal,
I could give you a metaphor
and thank you for your time,
the time that you bothered
not like right now,
but I wouldn’t say that to you
my metaphor is much too pretty –
like one of Winter, that boasts
the naked trees and exuberant breeze
that strips away leaves – with ice in its wake,
left to baby sit the branches,
that are long dead, too late,
that admires the icicles,
but not the chill they leave on your spine,
that lets snow dance on tiptoe
as a teddy and his innards,
fluffy and fun to play with,
and yet, ignoring the glass eye,
says nothing of the numbness,
I am numb now,
and I am broken,
not beyond repair – I never quite get there,
my ego’s much to big, to let you in that deep,
but as deep as you went, is as deep as I’m cold,
and it’s only mid-winter,
the branches are still bare,
and my metaphor is still yours,
not that you would dare,
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I like boys with strong convictions and convicts with perfect diction, Underdogs with good intentions Amputees with stamp collections
-So Nice, So Smart
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