paint a picture in my mind
say you wanna be mine
tell me I'm not wasting time
baby, won't you be mine?
I'm not asking for much
just one little touch
do I need to say please?
'cause I'll do it with ease
come a little closer
I don't want this to be over
please say yes
tell me I passed the test
paint a picture in my mind
say you wanna be mine
no, I'm not wasting time
oh, won't you please be mine?
just one little kiss?
give me something to miss
paint a picture for me
tell my mind what to see
paint a picture in my mind
tell me you're dying to try
we're not wasting time
please, won't you be mine?
About the Creator
Jordyn Carter
Just a 20 year old who loves to write and dreams of changing peoples' lives for the better.
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NAZIS IN AMERICA
In May of 1945, amidst the collapse of the Third Reich, high-ranking Nazi engineer Wernher von Braun reached out to the US government, aware of his strategic value due to his role in developing long-range ballistic missiles. Von Braun's proactive approach highlighted the beginning of Operation Paperclip, a covert initiative aimed at recruiting German scientists to the US before they fell into Soviet hands. Over the course of 17 years, Operation Paperclip facilitated the relocation of over 1,500 German scientists to America, disregarding their Nazi affiliations and potential war crimes.
By Ohis-Elakhe saint4 days ago in Poets
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
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