Sunday, February 14, 2010
Wits
Salome, dear Salome you dance with such allure
You step in tune with my beat, tempting each time
And when I ask to dance, a shoulder speaks
Sultry yet tainted, mesmerizing to all
This is a game perchance you think to yourself
This is my chance
Each word is a turn, each sentence is a break
Break
Are we winning this
Are you winning this
Come again she says, she whispers it really
Eyes scan breathlessly, what is this touch of skin
Your shoulders were bare you once told me, sometimes
Never constricted, always free
Break, a little
Now is your chance
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