Freeshia/Poetic/Sensitive Soul Revisited
I come out of the shower....smelling of
freeshia...something I haven't worn in a long while.
I come out on the balcony, smoking my cloves, and watching
I watch the morning surfers control the ocean and I sit on
my swing with Bottabing by myside.
I reach for my coffee and continue to sit there until I
feel the heat rising and hitting my face.
I walk into the sliding glass door that leads to my room
and bring out my guitar.
How could lord possibly create such beauty as I see in
front of me today?
I wish she was here to share this morning with me.
My breath is becoming heavier and my heart races as I strum
my guitar, thinking of her awakening in her bed, with her
covers all entwined about her.
Her hair a mess.
I can invision her standing about her bathroom miror
thinking she looks like shit in the morning, preparing for
hours of looking beautiful for another day.
What she doesn't know is that she is already beautiful with
her hair about her, rubbing the continuing sleep from her
wide eyes, while adjusting her pajamas that fall loosely on
her (this is what I imagine).
She is beautiful, without her knowing it.
And here I sit, imagining her here with me.
Me holding her softly as we listen to the waves crash on
All I want to do is look at her.
This is my goal
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