Written by 10:11 am Musings • 7 Comments

Be my Delilah.

Next Saturday was his wedding! Keep me in the dark, save me from unknown pains, we were never meant to be.
I am done with free fucks, reborn maybe or a different way of fucking freely: holding me.

I don’t need tame or fame

All I want is a baby

Nineteen letters for the lady who sits naked in the lobby

Love is for her, she is mad or perhaps, love is deficient

I am born from blue, A place where rules are broken

I broke them

Eat me, feed me, but you don’t look like the type

And you are not trying

Next Saturday was his wedding

Keep me in the dark, save me from unknown pains, we were never meant to be

I am done with free fucks, reborn maybe or a different way of fucking freely, holding me.

Sadly we have our smiles born out of sheer knowledge of blissful memories

Stop! Be careful

Let me go please, I am floating, dancing while the music plays from afar

He held me and danced for long, I pray it does not end soon

FIFA on TV, you left me for a shy introverted complex bisexual

I am mad, thanks to my mother

Light me some cigarettes, nose rings and earrings and pussy rings! Let me be your bride.

Don’t betray me, don’t be my Delilah

The world and I are in a race, sometimes she outruns me, most of the time, I am faster; unending race of comings and goings

Don’t betray me, don’t be my Delilah

Portray me, be my deliverer

I don’t want reign or fame, all I want is a baby.

Sixteen poems for the lonely, red sticks for the heavy

Love is a word for sad people or a drug for people who are torn

I am born

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