Friday, March 1, 2013

More poems.

Further up
it moves
by the cold
I press my face
to the glass
and cringe

Thin gold band
presses into my skin
leaving a mark
brittle nail
slit to the core
it bends backward
and breaks
and I smile

Sea shells
in small dishes
not meant
to be used
only to be
it collects
dust and grime
from the air
its perfect little shapes
melting in the hot sun
I try
to keep the window
to let in the fresh air
we were wrong
to never use you

Black cat
with wide red mouth
perched on the window
staring out at
nothing in particular
its tail moving
to the beat
of the piano
next store
I close my eyes
and find myself
humming along

Deep brown eyes
set in gold
I find you looking
at me
and mine
small ears
set onto a pug body
I am happy
when you smile at me
and let me know
that I am yours

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