The pull

Smitten
transfixed
bewitched
what kind of pull
is this?
The gravitas
of the gravitational
fields
please yield
or release
I beseech.

Oooh weee
your dopeness
is congealed
and undeniably real
breaking the seal…

as silhouettes of you
against shadows
call out
beckoning for
a closeness…
a thirst that coerces
the weary with
hoarseness
desirously longing
to drink… from
that fountain
of you.


Our reach is often impeached.

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