FIRE
Dear Soul
I met a man
with a growl of a voice
and hands like magic
the sexiest of intellects
and sharpest of wits
His smirk
is a charm
His laugh
sparks butterflies
He touched me
and I ignited
He kissed me
and I fell
It’s over
I’m undone
He will surely
be the death of me
And I welcome
the dark
for it means
I have walked
through his fire
The #Poesia pieces on this blog and Write Bitches are works of fiction, erupting from my incredibly over-active imagination. They are slightly edited, totally unscripted, spontaneous, super loose, and probably some of my favorite works. They are perfect in their imperfections and I hope you enjoy.
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