I keep trying to write it.
To make it happen.
Moving little pieces,
bit by bit or
shoving them around.
Either
Disturbing and mixing
To see if something will
Arrise from the mess
or
Staying still, inanimate,
maybe my actions are
not letting things happen.
Maybe it thinks
and evades me.
Maybe you're not supposed
To look for love at all.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
I keep trying to write it.
To make it happen.
Moving little pieces,
bit by bit or
shoving them around.
Either
Disturbing and mixing
To see if something will
Arrise from the mess
or
Staying still, inanimate,
maybe my actions are
not letting things happen.
Maybe it thinks
and evades me.
Maybe you're not supposed
To look for love at all.