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Edward Cullen

By
Edward Cullen

Edward Cullen sits across the table,
A porcelain sculpture -- untouchable.
He traces the rim of a coffee cup,
White marble kissing glass.
The waitress fans herself
With a menu to cover a creeping blush.
His eyes seek mine.
My heart skips a beat.
I can only hear our shallow breaths
Spilling intensity into the warm evening air.
My thoughts are lost as a candle,
Blown away like a grey smoke trail.
He reaches for my hand,
Warm flesh enfolded in frozen stone.
I welcome the cold, abandon impossibility,
And slip into the mystery of golden topaz.
Tonight remains our secret.
We still have miles to go before I sleep.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

gossipgirlxoxo said...
Apr. 4, 2011 at 1:05 pm
thats a great poem i luv luv luv it, and dont let any1 tell u otherwise. i luv edward and im guessin u do too? watevr, dnt matter. its still a GREAT poem. GORGEOUS!!!
 
twilighter81 said...
Feb. 19, 2010 at 12:43 pm
that was an okay poem it could of been better but it was okay!
 
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