Wednesday, April 28, 2010

leaning out my window sill

smoking gun at the witching hour
17 minutes past
can't help but wonder
thought layers over
eyes start to turn under
chest raised
increasing breath
spell it out for me
in sounds but not words
i still can't hear you
LOUDER PLEASE
you can clearly feel the marks on my knees
every scathing charm
that grazes your arm
is a plight
for the day that you
just might
fall down.

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