22 September 2011


     My feet are poetry on the ground, as the fragrance of the rain hangs at the tip of my nostril. Cliff hanging, tormented beads of sweat cling on the outset of every one of my pores. Hurdling over a puddle, as my breasts keep pace with every step of my footing. Feeling the roundness of the beads escaping down the curvature of my body, my sneakers take up the drowning. My breath's vapor intrudes on the shroud of fog. Misty darkness hides any illusion, as my silhouette collides in downhill speed only to melt at the bottom, in a surrendering of breath. Sneakers take up the soaking from my flesh...

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