life arrives in templates. selections small enough to confront. she measures time in broken watches and thick rubber bands. those voices carry. those kingdoms are vacant.
creases in the moment. i always trip over.
less is more. so they say. but i don't get the math.
the nebula. the tired construct. that we are finding places that have always been there.
the battered dolls. their scratches faces still smiling. their nake torsos grinning.
the cold follows us. a persistant shadow. more hunger than anything.
there were voices. empty songs. she would let play. because they once meant something. there were intersections. vertices. the geometry of the soul. in bouts of long division.
i tried to remember how it felt. struggled to forget how warm it was.
she was mine briefly. but then she was lsot. vanished like snow flurries in early december.
Friday
12/12/2014 12:28:00 AM
| Life Poems |