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Picking Berries

May 14, 2014

There is a fork in the road up ahead
The road is dirt, my feet are bare, the sky is big and blue and you
Are standing there picking berries
On the left side of the highway with stained hands and lips
I am blinded by beautiful, bared shoulders and mesmorized by slender, dangerous hips
Your eyes cast my way and a smile spreads your face and contagiously catches mine
As a web of smoke and mirrors wraps itself like vines
around my neck and heart
There is a small part
of me that can see the forest for the trees
But the larger part of me
Is being sucked in
And the love story slash tragedy begins….
As I choose left
My pysche twists right
My palms are lifted to the light
And I am powerless to the fight
Powerless to stop my feet from moving forward
I’ve already been fore warned
About where this leads
But it seems like my feet
Have a wicked mind of their own
Toward the unknown
I am dreading it just as much as I’m anticipating it
And you are unintentionally facilitating it
Satan or Angel
Adam or snake
Who you are to me is up for debate
But you offer me berries
Brush the hair from my cheek while I slowly eat
Lift the juice off my chin with your thumb
The path of your finger tips leaves a trail of skin numb
And tingling
On fire and sizzling
Left empty and cold once your hand is back in the folds of your pocket
I will carry this moment, these feelings in a heart shaped locket
On a chain on my neck, never to forget
You are beauty and fire and ice
And what can be and what could never happen
You are infinite possibility and earthly limitations
You are a single invitation
To a party for two
That we should not be at together
But tell that to the feather light feeling in my knees
And the breeze that just brushed the back of my neck
Tell that to my pulse
As it races to RSVP
Just try and
Tell that to me.

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