Posted in Blog

Dungarees – It Wasn’t Him

Red on my lips,

staining your soul white shirt,

my possessive kiss,

that becomes shy as the night goes by.

I am fascinated by the denim of your dungarees,

a dangerous demon lives within me,

and she sees your blue eyes,

colliding with me,

as the bathroom spins,

I sink more drinks,

I want you to stay,

but I don’t know what it means.

I know what it means,

your hands tell me that you know too,

but I am afraid to be loved,

by someone who understands.

I play with your buttons,

as you hold me up,

holding me close,

a button breaks,

your blue eyes meet my brown eyes,

there is a smart remark,

about your increasingly visible bra,

and I forget how much I want you,

remembering who I thought I was meant to be.

There is a fire within me,

that only you can fight,

but I won’t let you,

because I’m afraid that if you did,

I would let it rage,

I would let you rage.

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