The Process

December 7, 2009
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My Brain stem tells my lungs to inhale;
the exhale may take some time.
I'm so out of my mind that
I don't even mind the stale air.
My left hand is cold while
my right hand is loving life.
My lips are cold but that doesn't stop you from
warming my heart and making my maroon blood rush
through my veins and turn crimson.
You jump while
my left palm gets warm, but it really doesn't phase you,
you want it there.
My eyes burn holes through you, it's so hard to look away.
Listening to your every word, still waiting to exhale.
"what are you thinking about" registers in my brain as the perfect chance.
During my exhale my vocal chords tighten and vibrate
emitting what I've been waiting to say ever since I've inhaled
My eyes see the muscles in your face tighten exposing your
vibrant white as snow teeth.
You know the love is
unconditional and only

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