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As the sound of her footsteps diminish in proportion to her figure her shadow lengthens across the street The horizon eats everything and I am always on the inside from that same hunger I yell, please. / She told me a secret Now I make maps from empty pages and hide my poetry in her I believe in nothing else / In the emptiest hours of evening through an open window to your kitchen stray animals are lured by the scent of flavours they've never tasted and I knock on your door hoping you are not home / In spite of the chemicals and circumstances that we are I kiss the stars and lose my place upon the pages you are writing / I long to be collecting on your tongue like snowflakes like secrets / I see now how after the third try a genie fails to complete what comes naturally in your arms / childhood is a secret we'll remember someday; for the heroes we were, for the monsters we saved / hope everything falls out of your pockets hope you arrive at the gates empty handed hope they can forgive you for arriving empty
0
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
Pinch (poems of brevity and everything)
As the sound of her footsteps diminish in proportion to her figure her shadow lengthens across the street The horizon eats everything and I am always on the inside from that same hunger I yell, please. / She told me a secret Now I make maps from empty pages and hide my poetry in her I believe in nothing else / In the emptiest hours of evening through an open window to your kitchen stray animals are lured by the scent of flavours they've never tasted and I knock on your door hoping you are not home / In spite of the chemicals and circumstances that we are I kiss the stars and lose my place upon the pages you are writing / I long to be collecting on your tongue like snowflakes like secrets / I see now how after the third try a genie fails to complete what comes naturally in your arms / childhood is a secret we'll remember someday; for the heroes we were, for the monsters we saved / hope everything falls out of your pockets hope you arrive at the gates empty handed hope they can forgive you for arriving empty
Squigs
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Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
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