Under My Sofa

Under My Sofa

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WpMetadataReadComplete Wed, Feb 28, 20182h 10m
When I was little I wrote in the space under my sofa. Now I write on top of it. That's not poetic. I'm just too big to fit underneath anymore.
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Taste my desire for life and love, adventure and honesty, on my chapped lips and tongue. Drink from me, the light of unseen tomorrows. Empty me of all that I made myself of; what I think I am. I am a huge zap between reality and imagination. Bridge me already. **** Highest ranking in Poetry-#12 ©VioletEden2015

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