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Grip
Grip
The night grows long and cold
And yet sleep will not come
The weight of your absence
Presses into me, a belt of stones
I find myself shaking
You chose to take this grip on me
And now that you have it
The question remains
What will you do with it tomorrow
When the sun comes again?
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*hugs tight*
Good poem hon. If you ever need to talk, just let me know okay? :)
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Thank you for that sheepish.
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Timberwolf, I'm just so pleased your vote got through (just been looking at that thread from back in April) and am really enjoying reading & writing poetry again. You write some beautiful stuff, I love this. The vulnerability of the giving...
It is wonderful to find a group of intelligent, feeling people I can share with - oh yes, and they happen to be into so-called 'kinky' sex too, bonus!
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Lovely and raw words Timberwolf. Thanks for sharing and a big hug to you.
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Short and to the point. Another great post as usual, TW.