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musings, poetry

Sight

When I am drunk, I miss you
And when I am not, I don’t
How do divine which is the real feeling?
How do I figure on which one to act?

My rage, this rage
This great, prodigious rage
Is a thing in and of itself
It seethes and bellows
And turns and turns
Towards you

And yet my desire for you
Equivalent and independent
Pointed; disarming; intense
Unrelenting

Help me

Help me see you
Help me see you the way you want me to see you

Help me see

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About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.

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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

November 2013
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