love

Tipsy.

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I’m a little tipsy,
From the day I tasted your love.
I wasn’t a fan of cheesy one-liners,
or fancy anniversaries.
I didn’t believe in wanting to hold a hand,
even four hours past midnight.
I could not even imagine intimacy,
and lust with my three A.M. shoulder.
I did not think I could be,
A Cinderella and an Anastasia.

You like sunny afternoons,
and me in skirts.
You love my Nutella eyes,
and my tan lines.
You’re -I’ve got no other way to say this- hot.
You open doors,
And still let me pay my bills.
You’ve got my back,
and my behind (*ass).
Do you have any idea what you did to me?

I actually miss you every night.
I hold my pillow against my chest,
As if it was you.
I reach the coffee place way before you do.
I wake up early to watch you sleep.
I do the cheesiest things
that I’d never imagine myself doing.
And I’m pretty sure of one more thing that I do.
When it’s four hours past midnight,
My fingers do latch onto yours, right?


Previous post : Labels of the human market.
Related post : Kiss me slow.

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Published by

Utsav Raj

Poets, madness and lies.

9 thoughts on “Tipsy.”

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