Monday, September 7, 2009
some things are better on paper
he crosses out options
as each phone call deems silent.
he leans his head into the corner crease
and sobs in his bandaged hands he flung to protect her.
so many keys
so many stories
so many white chips
you just cannot get rid of.
all ive seen is the preening to union
to comfort
in pairs
and without
we lie sullen
forgotten.
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