She’s got her hand in my pocket while she picks my brain.
She’s holding onto me for reasons she can’t explain.
I don’t know what it is, but I kind of like it.
She tells me to leave, but her hold asks me to stay.
She speaks her mind,
But when I do, she doesn’t know what to say.

She is comfortable in her own skin.
She comes alive when I am with her.
She peeks my curiosity.
She is something else.

She is…

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

Categories: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “She

  1. She sounds very special…


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