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: 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 is in a race, sometimes she outruns me, most of the time, I am faster; unending race of coming 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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