One Poem by Simon Whittle

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he danced in front of me
i didn’t want his skin to touch my skin
his air to brush my neck
i simply wanted his fingers to paint the world
the strike of his laughter to carry me safe

 

Simon Whittle lives with his husband in Canada. If he’s not painting, then he’s writing stories. He runs a blog via WordPress with his best friend sharing happy, amusing, and sad anecdotes and poetry.

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