Bliss
Gravity pulls my soul against the ground--
Pressure from my mind pounds bullet proof glass,
Fragile by frequencies of intense sound.
Your stance is a statue marching through grass...
Such divine and determined dialects.
My world spirals you into my orbit,
You are my satellite the sun reflects;
Other stars dim by the light you transmit--
Your whispers shiver me to stay awake,
The bliss your magnetic blue eyes partake...
Copyright © Michangelina Schude | Year Posted 2011
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