I try to see the beauty in a rose
But it smells just like a **** to me.

My pen is filled with lovely words
That I can’t put on paper.

My heart’s aware that it’s been robbed
Of everything that’s velvet

But it beats on in vain attempt
To recognize a bluebird.
ljm

between stanza lines and
between line words and
between word letters and
between letter sounds
are found the
space and silence
that beget them all