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	<title>the poetry knook :: the poetry of stephen m. james :: indianapolis, indiana &#187; cross_roads</title>
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		<title>Thinking of You (III)</title>
		<link>https://www.tpkpoetry.com/poetry/thinking-of-you-iii/</link>
		<comments>https://www.tpkpoetry.com/poetry/thinking-of-you-iii/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Stephen M. James]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[High School]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[cross_roads]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[god]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[guilt]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ingrained]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pregnant]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[whore]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[yearbook]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[It&#8217;s labor thinking about all the pregnant girls. I always wanted to be the guy they came crawling to So I could be a road sign pointing to the Cross roads. I never could say whore or the like, Because they believe you sometimes, One time, Then they break like porcelain. No reason, no complaint [&#8230;]]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>It&#8217;s labor thinking about all the pregnant girls.<br />
I always wanted to be the guy they came crawling to<br />
So I could be a road sign pointing to the Cross roads.<br />
I never could say whore or the like,<br />
Because they believe you sometimes,<br />
One time,<br />
Then they break like porcelain.</p>
<p>No reason, no complaint<br />
Other than a screaming &#8220;Why, why did you do it?!&#8221;</p>
<p>You don&#8217;t think that you deserve me and<br />
That you would leap from tall buildings in a single bound.<br />
I&#8217;m sorry if I never thrill you like someone else.<br />
When you tire of the party, tell me.</p>
<p>If my opposite is ingrained, you&#8217;ll never change<br />
Like the yearbook signatures: &#8220;Never change.&#8221;<br />
But you can change, because I cry every night<br />
Throwing objects against the wall from my bed<br />
When I think of you in bed.<br />
Then, I never want to see you again<br />
Because I&#8217;m ashamed, but I would never tell you because<br />
They believe you sometimes<br />
One time,<br />
Then you might break like porcelain.</p>
<p>For a millisecond<br />
I wish I could have ran when I wouldn&#8217;t have felt guilt.<br />
No matter what I say;<br />
No matter if I can&#8217;t say anything<br />
I still care.</p>
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