Day 4 of 30 Poems/30 Days

‘The Pretty Dresses’

Her laughter is like
two arms
wrestling you to the ground,
beating your chest for no reason.

And her thoughts are
quick canons
with no roar,
only sweeping you over the cliff.

Her touch is
water;
neither gone nor present.

But she says
in her pretty dress:
‘I spin only for you,
and I dance only with you’.

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