Monday, October 28, 2013

Hot wax words dripping
In my mind tonight
I could have been a poet
I could have made those words to sing
In a garden where all the thumbs are green
Not just this stubby candle
Not just these idle seconds
Between being someone else
I could have been a poet
Maybe I still can

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 I'm bad at vulnerability     I like to tie off places  Where mess might hide Might wander in to introduce themself Until I'm all kn...