PDA PolicyA Poem by Jessica Elaine Stevens [Faiteach]Brushing fingers as we walk is the closest we'll ever come to holding hands.treading old places in a head with a new face is- differential. i suppose in these Haz-Mat-suits its a hopeless pursuit if I were to reach out and touch you- slide down the length of a straight-and-narrow Gig Line and search desperately for the parts that make you wild. There is no wilderness here. It's like i'm reaching over backwards bending sideways twisting clockwise trying to scratch an itch in between my ribs which rattle, out of breath running miles and miles, in the midst of pounding feet and marching beats which falter as we round a corner sing a little faster and i'm running with chest unlatched, heart, free flying banner, displaying all my pride and all my strengths but chained up here in the confines of an inadequate body which tingles with the static of unquenched touches and words that paint pictures of undone wanton wanted actions- i desire to run again. i'll follow in your wake and pray for the day when our uniforms unravel. © 2010 Jessica Elaine Stevens [Faiteach]Author's Note
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Added on April 18, 2010Last Updated on May 20, 2010 AuthorJessica Elaine Stevens [Faiteach]Worcester, MAAboutI was someone else before. I can't remember who. more..Writing
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