the whisper of leaves
beneath a bright moon
pass me by

sensual brushes
wants, in a purer form
my needs ripple within
i am not ready to
submit, not ready
to give in

the lure of
faraway stars and worlds
i can never touch
can never hold
i am not
ready to face them

i surrender
to the dreams
my white flag
in the pocket
of discarded jeans

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