Putty

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  • Love

    Putty

    I recreate a touch

    a breath, a sound

    my mind repeats the echo of your words

    my skin responds to the memory of your hands

    I bend like a willow to your imaginary will

    as all that I am becomes anything you want

    and no other ambitions survive.



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    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    silentranks’s Poems (10)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    DNA -2
    What I Am Full Of 1
    While He Sleeps 1
    a rhyme or something like it 1
    Sticky 1
    Putty 0
    Etched 0
    Two Deserts 1
    I Was Never Yours 0
    and she was a little terrorist 1