C.E Smithwick


it seems so…
and yet it’s there
breathing in the
air that is coated
and sickly sweet.
it is founded on bad poetry
and sad hormonal truancy.
there is no soft lighting
not here, no fear of long term
it is cold-bed/hot-skin
won’t ever feel this way
again all your life.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, November 18, 2005

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Langston Hughes


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