Encumbered
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Encumbered
You asked me if
I love you
butterflies rising from
a pyramid of
self doubt
feels empty
and sick
concurrently
encumbered.
I dare you to love me.
Words are like sparks of light. Here are some I tried to catch and tame...
Encumbered
You asked me if
I love you
butterflies rising from
a pyramid of
self doubt
feels empty
and sick
concurrently
encumbered.
I dare you to love me.
Posted in love, sick, sonnet by Unknown
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