A Fine Suited Man With Terrible Inklings

A fine suited man with terrible inklings

Hands on her shoulders; easy to confide

Pouring drinks & erasing her sadness

Falling by the wayside with time & tide

Beauty is merely a natural configuration

Each button gone, an uncontrollable urge

His intentions told with a silent tongue

Embraced & now they lovingly merge

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Does Life Have You

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Does life have you
Feeling blue?
Well, naked jumping jacks
Are the only thing to do

*originally posted on former blog