Amber The Tiger
I loathe in my attachment, my attraction to my tiger, my tiger, the appellation I cherish to rouse her, yet I do not possess, my antsy gloom alone musing over her caress, the time between times I don’t behold her I perceive myself under water confined of oxygen, and the moment my eyes grasp hers, I gasp for breath with a kiss of lips I wish to make mine, my only fountain, I’ve spent but only five nights in heaven, and I anguish of never being there again, my detached emotion I’ve been governed to, have I been used, for the better words of lack of dependency, or am I over analyzing, over analytical I am, I admit, but I’m still frightened lying still in an empty bed of false death and silence, hold steady, stay calm, stay quaint, stay cool, I apprise myself, but my feelings are overwhelming as she brings out this fire within me, honesty it hurts, hung up on possible loss, All through my life I never understood the man who would want someone who does not want him, who may not feel the same emotions, but now I do, but maybe she does, as I drift across this ocean to find new frontiers of love and tears.
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