April 11, 2017 / Personal

Sometimes I Pretend I'm a Poet

Untitled An open window in the night only invites the unknown.                       What you think of me                       Is nothing of who I am. I am drawn to the soft sounds of far awa...
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Untitled

An open window in the night

only invites the unknown.

                      What you think of me

                      Is nothing of who I am.

I am drawn

to the soft sounds

of

far away traffic

that carries the black sky

holding it up

out of reach.

You are keen

but you know nothing of my heart

and it’s desire to be held.

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