69: Love You Love You Not


You, boy, now a fantasy man

And me, a girl who wants to go home

A fantasy woman

Who never have to question

Is this my crazy

Or my gut

One we should always listen to

One is a nut

We hunger for nothing but each other

Eat peaches every morning

Teeth puncture skin

No care for how the juice runs down our chins

Watch loved ones not lost, laughing 

Only our old pain is buried

In our back yard

Amongst the daisies where the grass is green

like the shutters we painted together

The curtains we made love on

The grass is


Not real

Is real

Not real

Is luck of the pluck


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