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Monday, December 6, 2010

Enamored Beneath my Locs...

I am enamored.

I am enamored at the thought of her name.

I am enamored at the sound of her voice, at any text she might send.

I am enamored under the scrutiny of her stare.

I am so enamored.

I am enamored when I study her visage, clearly lost in the shape of her lips.

I am enamored in the way I stride, my eyes whispering the lingo of the sway in my hips.

I am enamored at the softness of her touch.

I am enamored and I don't particularly care who knows as much.

I am enamored beneath my locs.

I am enamored at my fingertips' urge to record her dimensions.

I am enamored and she has no conception of my perplexity.

I am simply wetly enamored and I don't know how to proceed but I know The Way is Present.

I am enamored and watching her eclipses these ruminations.


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