hills and fields,
I heard your name in every one,
every waning whisper of the wind,
as I lay in your lap,
wary but wild,
and you read to me.
I was taken from the ground,
little girl lost to your gust.
I must stress,
I was literate before we met,
but under your passionate perception,
my eyes were carefully cut open,
I learned how to read,
with my humble, hungry hands.
You stripped me down,
building back up,
until I was taller than the trees,
where you taught me how to Polish kiss.
We built nature,
when the moon was moving closer.
My naked neck,
made for your hook.
A pretty lamb,
and a man who should have known better,
but was too beaten up by life to care.
I fell asleep on roses,
in your coral clasp,
one finger on your lips,
to shush the sheep,
so I wouldn’t awake,
from our forest filled fantasy.
I don’t suppose you ever loved me,
or, I, you,
or maybe we do,
and we just pretend,
so the chasm we created,
doesn’t feel so confining.
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