butwhatthehell

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august 21, 2012; 11:01pm

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you walk
back lit
like some
noir fatale
through those
swingin doors
ordering whiskey
and standing
so subtle
so steadfast
so seductive
that I
can barely
sit still
I never
want to
know you
or see
you again
because trouble
was born
in autumn
and colored
with turquoise
and whispers
lite philosophy
under quiet
tennessee moonlight

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Written by burrben

August 22, 2012 at 4:09 am

Posted in poetry

Tagged with ,

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