This holographic poem
Was written by the personated tree
That reminds me of you
For although I may lack the valour
To emancipate your battered heart
I'm hoping this far-flung poem
Not to be mistaken for amatory
But rather a gift
From the stairs
That take comfort in the echo
Of your whispered secrets
This inessential concoction
Of words has been formed
By the stand-still bench
Trapped in the memory of you
This incongruous composition
Of cluttered abstractions
Was conjured up by the
Missing skin on your wrists
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
This holographic poem
Was written by the personated tree
That reminds me of you
For although I may lack the valour
To emancipate your battered heart
I'm hoping this far-flung poem
Not to be mistaken for amatory
But rather a gift
From the stairs
That take comfort in the echo
Of your whispered secrets
This inessential concoction
Of words has been formed
By the stand-still bench
Trapped in the memory of you
This incongruous composition
Of cluttered abstractions
Was conjured up by the
Missing skin on your wrists
