An Observation, Or Something
there's something about the way she says no.
it starts with her hands,
the way she grasps each wrist
wringing each dry as she clinches her fist.
it moves to her shoulders,
the way they roll on back,
they've sunken to the depths from falling off their high stack.
it reaches her neck,
the way it tilts to and fro,
dancing on the waves of which are to grow.
it stops at her eyes,
the way they fall to the ground,
swiftly swimming up as they begin to drown.
it leaves at her lips,
the way they quiver and know,
holding back the word formerly known as no.
it's something so simple,
and yet so detrimental,
at the hint of its song,
everything can go wrong.
but it stops at her gate.
when only beauty captivates,
there's no where to go,
there's definitely something about the way she says no.
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