Raising Sails

Wed, 08/07/2013 - 17:36 -- tekight

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I’d give away all wealth to be tortured with kindness,

My body a tomb for your style.

I’d steal away my health in the midst of your presence,

If it granted me a glimpse of your smile.

It’s made me a sweet, shaking strum of a chord,

A fear that’s been told it can roam.

And each time I look at the gravel and mourn,

You’ve never cast that first stone.

I’m at home.

 

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