– elliott of connecticut –

Name is Elliott…
raised in Connecticut…
such a fine gentleman…
won’t be seen again.
My heart does beat for him, bleed for him –
stranger so strange.
My heart does peek for him, creep for him –
however deranged.
In this time, I’m 28,
yet for him, I’m twenty-late.
Though to love him would be great,
there’s just no rhyme.

He didn’t crush me… I
crushed myself, rushed myself.
He only touched me… but
I still can’t quite love myself.
Why should he trust me… when
I don’t even trust myself?
Elliott is his name… and
make-believe is mine.

D.J. Whisenant

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