"is lost
the times we shared",
trite it was and would be,
except that u, of all, said it
aloud.
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"is lost
the times we shared",
trite it was and would be,
except that u, of all, said it
aloud.
Aloud;
dully fading,
your voice oscillates:
Seamist and red chairs. I see, then
I don't.
i dont
let one too close
lest there are involvments,
dare not get into blisses, lest
they hurt
They hurt
our ears when they
fling epithets. They hurt
our hearts when they forget to be
human.
human
nature never
fails to surprise, although
we ought to have figured it out
by now.
by now
of course it could
be tomorrow, in which
we'd have missed out on the rest of
today!
today
will soon
be lost in the annals
of history....did you do all
you could?
you could
ask, and I could
answer but then where would
the mystery be? It might be
boring.
Boring
is eggs without
salsa. Boring is tea
without sugar or spaghetti,
no sauce.
no sauce!
You're having a
laugh aren't you? The burly
trucker yelped while egg yolk spilled down
his shirt
His shirt
displayed the wear
of one who struggled through
threadbare times of never enough.
She sighed.
She sighed
the patch was sewn
atop the hole of thoughts
but it was not strong enough to
hold them
hold them,
they won’t bite you,
unless you squeeze to hard,
then they may disappear like ghosts —
poems
poems...
scatters of words
that reflect inner thoughts,
our true selves on display for all...
or not
or not…
the way Hepburn
pronounced rough Charlie’s name...
and what became of rust and lace,
ol’ girl?