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Jul 2012
leave me
let the quiet come here
allow my porous dreams a chance
to be cored no more
to be filled with sponge-bath waters

or come to me
with eyes ripened for a funeral
foam on your cheeks from jaunty phantoms
who lean down with a wayward kiss
from eternities bound to a melancholy

oblivion creeping in our stairwell
I crawl down the causeway a stranger
with a plea leashed to my wrist
a bargain on my mind

love is a harsh word
and I dare not speak it here
for fear of cataclysm
or lack thereof
Michael Weddington
Written by
Michael Weddington
1.0k
   --- and steel tulips
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