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a maki Oct 2014
I used to play the cloud game in the stucco of my bedroom walls. 

My eyes confined to the few feet surrounding my pillow,

finding hippos and continents before I drifted off to sleep,

always comforted they would be there when I woke.

I’d start the next day carried away
by the dreams I failed to recall.
Chasing thoughts like kites on a string,
blown through the sky by the sharp spring breeze,
tails spinning in the wind.

I don’t have those same walls to look at now,
so I settle for the sky. the clean and clouded sky.
looking for familiar shapes in the silhouettes and shadows
of the crisp, clear clouds
as I watch the sun fall down.

I can no longer see those cartoon shapes,
the way they would stay in just one place.

If you ask me to find them now, 
all I see are nail holes.
this way, I don’t feel like I’ve pinned through the sky.
a maki Sep 2014
diamond eyes above the prize
dancing below the darkening skies
a maki Aug 2014
give me the nectar from your lips
whispered words separate the innocence between our hips
a maki Aug 2014
I can feel you in my palm
holding on to your hand
connecting lines, drawing dots
seeing more than I'd like to say we are

I can feel you in my chest
my arms laid to rest
across my eyes, above my heart
lying further away than I'd like to say we are

I can feel you in my mind
writing stories left untold
pens flowing, lead scratching
asking for more than I'd like to say we are

I can feel you in my world
together intertwined
steps and leaps, floating faith  
building more than I'd like to say we are

Through all this wonder I can feel you finally
we're falling as one
you and me, blindly free
and I'd like to say we are
a maki Aug 2014
pull me in and rinse me off
wring the sand off my shoulders
sanding corners thru covers
coveting light like lovers
'til we depart from one another
a maki Jul 2014
soak with me the summer heat
dripping from branches
dangling over the street
tell me all your secrets
every one you keep
you'll remain a mystery,
even to me.
a maki Jul 2014
sing me a song,
said the songbirds loved one
we'll float up in the drafts
of the seasons as they pass
the leaves will fall down like crumpled papers
across the ground

sing me a song,
before you leave for too long
they'll be left to study the sharpness of his scratch
all the while knowing it will last,
compared to the curves of her pen
looking through a memory filled lens

sing me a song,
and nothing will go wrong
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