As It Seems
pieces of me were always on paper
Sunday, September 21, 2014
A poem is a mirror
When you hold it up
When you look into it
It looks back at you
And you see yourself
Saturday, September 13, 2014
empty spaces
If I owned a sailboat
I'd call her,"Deacon Blues"
We could sail her over the horizon
We could drink scotch on her deck
And sleep beneath the waves
When you lay against me
You fill my empty spaces
Touching every place I hurt
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