The Lady On The Bridge

I fell in love in blue sneakers under a starry night , each star little maps into an imagined Wonderland... a constellation of dreamscapes and fairy tales.

'Poetic' --- was the stillness of the moment , as I'd watch snow ease into her Rupanzel-like hair. At least I am half a man to admit , I admired this divine creature at a distance. It was the vying hook of fear , intimidated by the possibility of igniting a fiery flame in her, a ravenous , lust-thirst passion for being lovers by simply... pressing shoulders with her.
I leaned over the bridge, lit up a half-baked cigar and thought the 'high' could boost my inner man-dom. It didn't. 

She sighed, and I shuttered.        

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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