"overtly" poems
[I accidentally deleted this, so now I'm reposting it]
This is not an attack, it is expression.
*This apparently isn't a very popular subject,
but then again, when has popularity changed anyone's mind..*
--
**** the 'Selective Service System'; the SSS.
It's neo-conscription.
FDR made us a deal we couldn't refuse
which included a stipulation
that about half of us still cannot refuse:
Selective Service
also known as
Peacetime Draft
But only for males. Only the males.
Not the females, though. Oh, no, not the females;
We need the Females
to bake the next batch of mindless soldiers/housewives/neoslaves.
We need the women to uphold the status-quo.
We need our women
to remain passive, docile, and beautiful ******* doormats
for our glorious and infallible western society.
We need our women
to be complaint, subservient, sex-starved, archaic-gender-role embodiments.
I see it as overtly 'cherry-picking' as well as misogyny both ways;
sexist, selfish, and prejudiced on both sides:
'Feminists' (read: Feminazis) claim to plea for true gender equality, but here is my plea:
If such is true, where then are their demands for mandatory selective service?
Why do they feel above reproach when it comes to the unsavory sides of society?
Why do they turn a blind eye to the ******* Draft if they ***** up such a storm about equality?
Why is it not a federal offense punishable by a $250,000 fine as well as up to 5 years in prison
for a female to not sign their life away to the military from when they turn 18 until at least 25?
How is that 'gender equality'?
Huh?
They, too, are cherry-picking.
-
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
"sly wordplay, it glows, feels like a shimmering address, half warning and half blessing, really alive with cadence"
read Kiki Dresden poetry^
once more into the sea trench divide,
I dive to devise,
Your provoking comment,
demands my full attention,
you divert me from struggling with
ginger & clay,
a contra concept
that molds and enflames,
yet strikes overtly sweet,
it does not
come so easy
as this playful notion
But
your words deserve the
attention immédiate
atenção imediata
that births this script,
tumbling forth in an instantly
instantaneously
me student, you mistress~master,
schooling me on sublimity subliminal,
capturing the capering
stylistic that bursts forth from within,
that my fingertips provide,
while my brain connives & connivers
continuously
you overlay analytics
that never are to me
revealed,
the what and wherefore
of the whom
hiding within
of the im~perpetuity impish essence of
i m p ishness
by charmingly doing me, not once,
but many times better
here a spillage:
an observational ditty,
dressed in a tux,
most formally,
to render the greatest
wordplay
ever invented
t,
the uniqueness of a simple
thank you
my favorite poem
a forever for ever,
the song that
plys and plays me
in the me
so often,
the linguists have banned the word
repeatedly
from my lexicon
so in its stead,
this all-in-one mighty steed
(verb phrase, a noun, or an adjective depending on its usage)
this phatic expression,
here disguised in
Portuguese,
muito obrigado!
muito obrigado!
muito obrigado!
nml 5:39am nyc 10/4, 10/4
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 5:44 AM UTC
Do not glance at the answers of your classmates.
I do not mean this in a strictly literal sense.
Do not glance at the answers of your classmates.
This is a reflection of Ego, the morality of a copier:
Seeking the easy way out; without personal gain.
Self-defeating in the truest sense of the term.
Those who concern themselves with the affairs of others
shall forever condemn themselves to a sort of cognitive hell.
Do not concern thyself with the lives of others;
you have thy own path to walk.
Those who seek overtly to alter the affairs of others
usually presume or at least condescend
and in the process of doing so
allow themselves to go astray.
Do not glance at the tests on your classmates desk;
what is worse: to know you are wrong, or to deny to yourself your ignorance?
Do not look unto others for answers for your problems
for they cannot know what battles you fight each day.
Look inwards for deeper understanding
for it is thy prism that is responsible for thy spectrum
which in turn is responsible for your perceptible reality.
The truest of teachers do not claim to be so,
the truest of scholars do not simply attend formal classes
the trust of sages claim not their wisdom,
the truest of wisdom seems paradoxical.
Look not unto thy peers for the standards to which to hold thyself.
If this seems to be selfish or self serving,
I wish to remind
Illusion is begun with "I"
and "I" is a temporary vessel.
Thy body knows thy path;
It is thy vessel; it has a compass.
Follow your passions while you still can.
Begin thy Magnum Opus.
Nothing else matters.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
Ageing so beautifully.
Classically as diamonds do, never ageing gracefully
Her eyes fire her up, fire you up too,
This Goddess,brings forth the huntress, out on the **** for a thrill.
Never cheap.
This individual will never ever weep.
Just a kindly miss, not lonely,
So don't take the Michael.
Nourishment needed.
Overtly she's principled.
Quintessential English,
Rapturous as summer days and Sundays.
This trusting Utopian dreamer.
Vehement pen.
Wicked humour full of woman.
X rated at times,youthful and zany.
(C)Livvi
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
They began without notice, in the city of Mombasa
By the Al shabab shooting baby Osinya in the head,
Killed the mother, leaving a slug stuck in Osinya’s head
Killing and mauling many others macabrously,
Killing for no other reason, but tribe and faith,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
They had initially lynched the West Gate Mall
In Nairobi, killing the aged and seasoned darling
Of African poetry and true fountain of peace
The dearest Kofi Awonor, in full watch of his son,
Confirming a trail of the ghastly curse of fate and death
That totted him arduously from his home in the west
Of the tropical gulag that makes the land of Africa
From where the terror maestro ; Boko haram reign scot free
Mayheming, Killing, ****** and kidnapping harmless virgins
Killing For no other reason but tribe and faith,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
They have now killed fifty peasants in Mpeketon town,
****** them in circles to puncture their virginity
and brutally kidnapping those that are not *****
Using the AK 47 and the Ak 74 to shoot and ****
Without reason nor course but failure of mind
Botched down by authenticity of holy diversity
Heavenly packaged in God’s idea of tribe,
Uhm! An African man with a gun is a brute of brutes,
Giving an African a gun is simple mess of the world
In to helter-skelter poise tilting peace higgledy-piggledy,
Killing one another like animals premised by Charles Darwin
As overtly seen in the warring Congo and CAR,
Where Africans **** one another in a stupid dint,
To ape Rwanda or no! To outshine the Jewish Massacre
In the Ammonium chambers of fuehrer Adolf ******
This stupid Africans baser than wild beasts,
Who told you that your greatness will come
from killing your neighbours; the fellow peasants?
These African men are the modern homoguerrillus,
Which one call cheap war making man
They and **** ! **** **** **** **** **** ****
For no other reason but faith and tribe,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
Gunshots of the gunmen in Africa are not
A song of the caged bird, no whatsoever,
They are cowardly maneuvers of the weak
As the weak and cowards rarely forgive,
They arm themselves to the teeth
With deadly weapons from Russia or wherever
Only to shoot and **** the old and malnourished
Peasant women, killing the likes of baby Osinya
Shooting a suckling baby to prove your heroism,
These African men are really a Whiteman’s burden,
They **** their fellows from cockcrow to chick roost
For no other reason but tribe and faith,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
Use amethyst for everlasting creativity in your organic endeavors, to keep mental sobriety, to calm the drunkenness that is an overtly analytical mind and an emotional heart. Use lepidolite to remind yourself that love envelopes everything around us, and allow your own to radiate and touch those who need it most, never disregarding yourself. Also to trust and have faith in your unique energy, to channel your strength and allow yourself to dream awake, and live every day in love with the universe.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
I do not love you as to hold you in my palms every second,
not as the blessing of wishful thinking, not as sunny days,
I love you as to let you float freely to your will, I love you in rainy nights,
I love you as overtly and covertly as possible. I do not love you as rubies and emeralds but as heartbeats and stolen kisses. I love you as a fleeting moment I may come to regret. I love you with or without cupid's arrow.
I love you.
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 7:53 AM UTC
I stared at her face, it bloomed like a flower,
as she talked to him, her eyes sparkled.
I sense that it was a love so vast,
Yes, this thing might definetly last.
What is this love can truly build?
Why does it like being gild?
What is in this thing that brings insanity?
How did this made beings overtly?
I keep on discerning this kind of thing.
While I am waiting for someone to cling.
Perhaps I will find all the answers,
when God reveal my long-waited lover.
In my state, the choices I have,
is to wait willingly and pray to Father above.
And, no, my heart is not in a hurry;
it won't show any sign of fury.
A day will approach when waiting will be over,
God will grant me love so tender,
Aesthetic pleasure for the lovers I am seeing,
which makes me inspired and not get tired of waiting.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
Negativity is not always overtly depressive,
Positivity is not always overtly happy.
Negativity eats away, piece by piece.
It hides in the banal.
Its disguised by layers of colour,
Noise, applause.
Negativity is drip fed, unnoticed.
The bland
The ordinary
The acceptable
Even the comfortable.
Negativity keeps you in your place,
Convinces you
How good you’ve got it,
Fosters no hope,
Breeds joy in superficiality.
Negativity is not a natural state of mind.
No one wants it, yet
Its continually perpetuated by those
Who are blind to it.
Negativity tells you that Positivity is frivolous and childish,
Happy-clappy psycho-babble,
Is an immense effort, an uphill struggle,
A dream, stupid, deluded, unobtainable…
Well, it would, wouldn’t it? Its Negative.
Negativity sets you unattainable goals,
Holds up a false mirror,
Tells you that you need to be
What you can’t be…
But still you ache, drive, strive
To get there,
Concentrating all energy on it,
To the detriment of all else.
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 1:42 PM UTC
We oughtta consider bringing back
old-fashioned Gladiator Arena combat
as retribution or as a chance at vindication,
depending on how well one performs,
for those who are most deserving:
Those who seek to spill innocent blood or to oppress the masses,
the most corrupt Politicians, Lawmakers, Enforcers and Judges,
overtly violent supposed "'Protectors", such as Soldiers or Police,
the scheming Bankers, that is to say "the House",
deliberately misleading Authority figures,
whether in news or in the world at large:
all the malicious Religious figures,
power hungry Narcissists,
abusive Demagogues,
subversive Tyrants;
if these people have a place,
it's center stage in a Coliseum with little else aside from one another,
their choice of melee weapon and/or shield, some leather armour, and a roaring crowd.
Let's not forget the HD cameras with hyper-telescopic lenses so we can see their faces live in 1080p!
Maybe even add a few hungry Lionesses from time to time
or perhaps some ill-tempered Sharks..
or, a pack of quite irate Wolves.
Our Imagination is truly the Limit!
We could even run ads in between rounds
and sell foam novelty items
and overpriced water
when it's 115 outside.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
It might be the pungent steam from a ***
steeping herbs meant to bend its sippers'
minds to potent effect, or an unanticipated
digestive reckoning from that mawkishly flavored
brand of store-bought paste they pass as butter.
However the dough arises, their collective
recollection of storied events, lengthwise sliced
and ritually rehearsed, hops facilely on the ****
of a bucking and overtly nonsensical wind.
Tea parties with slippery perspectives
have been shown quite clinically to induce
heightened sensitivity in participants,
so it's prudent to set about tidying the facts:
The hatter, it's become clear, shifted one place
too many and disappeared with a trace -- leaving
behind his hat to nobody's great advantage.
Lacking a wearer, the headgear's reputation for
producing madness has rapidly diminished.
The march hare pulls off his change in a very
separate and seasonal way: the bunny's
bottom half somersaults its top to occupy
both his spot and the hatter's vacated seat.
The dormouse upon its latest arousal
is re-visioned to be small, but not much mouse
at all. He's plush with the long-in-the-ear habit
of a pink stuffed rabbit, which the crusading hare
furiously declares is most curious, casting
doubt on the vermin's commitment to "no room."
Alice remains foremost in tact and is given
a bonus of two spare feet complete with slackened
bootstraps. She keeps them and her other luxury
items well-sheltered behind a stout table leg.
The absentee hatter doesn't dare shame her
with a radio-show call-in decrying
the waste. She's generously agreed to
cover the medical expenses from his firm flop.
May 27, 2010
May 27, 2010 at 2:54 PM UTC
.*who said i was orientating myself around the body? the body to body dynamic is so.... easy... excessive salivation... like a dog... i don't want the body... i wan the existence of the non-existent parody of ego, in the form of soul... i want, what secularism abhors to lay claim of... i've been to a ********** i know what selling flesh looks like... but i've also walked into a forest... and i have, managed to peer into a night... where i also managed to forget being equipped with a shadow... no... that wasn't it... true structures emerge when you've been abused... and the counter structures? the abuse... slows down... in the most realistic ordeal of anticipating near, but. never realized completion... what, a, leisure! the forest, the moon, the shadow, the crown... all that's missing is a poetic vagabond's (of an) incision into a soul... the tired yawn of a lion ingrained in a delusional concern for the depth of man... oh the leisured man... and his vantage points... prompts of a view with a missing lot, curiosity... cradle of the curiosity... cradle.. how else, if not coupled with...
a curiosity coupled to a, grave.*
deity, of fixed,
stature;
within the confines
of the prefix
omni-
what am i,
what am i, not
to think,
to encompass,
"the", all?
maybe some
clown-male-up
would-help?!
now i better hope,
that it does....
were we not oh so inquisitive,
concerning
the origins of said,
story?
sure...
sure...
such a feeble god...
bu what a more than
overtly feeble
invocation
of a real god!
what feeble reasons!
for whatever
is testified
as a, "feeble" god
to be conjured!
**** you!
and whatever comes with your
grievance of sharing heritage!
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 8:49 PM UTC
"Every survivor of ****** assault deserves to be heard, believed, and supported."
Rainwater of
the Elysian fields,
you assuredly do
like to drown your winged heroines?
You write them as strange
bitter narratives,
spurious to the calling
or as a bit of
bloodletting go.
The history formed around either
her breaking at the seams
upon the witching hour,
and her own home village
pillaging her claims
in the bonfire;
Or the arcane notion
no woman shall give testimony
against a neighbor
on the occasion he's a man.
Yes, she cried 'no' at the temple gate
Yes, she repeated such entreaties
But she'd also been into the ale
and wore an overtly
fetching carousal dress
you incensed.
Let her dam break
Let her try and flood us over
you mocked.
She was only a wayfaring angel
one reckless bird of passage
What type of wounds
could she inflict?
How easily you lost sight
of her will & halo
becoming stronger than fright.
Down she poured in antipathy,
until covering your gaping mouth!
It wasn't rain that killed you,
for you were the rain,
it was her blood calling out
that finally did you in...
Dec 7, 2019
Dec 7, 2019 at 8:09 PM UTC
what an unexpected response,
such a normally dreadful hour,
your improvisation was,
strangely pleasant.
i spoke of a companion,
you warmly obliged,
encore; quite unforeseen,
your psyche perplexed me.
we danced in diamond caves,
stiffly skimming,
each others surface,
faintly uttering counterfeit apologies.
the occasion moved along,
awkward glances and grazing,
turned into obscene materials,
something.
booked my ardor,
spontaneity, ambition,
&
those chromatic apertures.
the enigmatic attribute you carry
has
the speaker openly overtly enamored.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
Distinguished disguised dancers
masquerading man-made makeshift moral-plays
complete compelling communicated classical conversations
penetrating pontificated, pompous perceived perceptions
incisive impregnating indecisive ideologies.
nomads, no longer nomads
humanity, hardly humanity
children, no longer children
innocence, hardly innocence
agitated ardent adversaries arguing
open-ended opposing opinions overtly
disregarding discussed details on.. display
meager moronic monologues misused mindlessly
as..
politically-powered perverse points of 'principle'
vigorously virtual virtues vehemently vested in
stolen sordid 'salient' solutions set to 'save'
To save what?
A system born to fail?
A culture devoid of culture?
A materialistic, sophomoric generation of deadbeats and mindless sheep?
A corporate ********** of sound bites and advertisements?
A persistently forced state of wage slavery?
A game of he said, she said, I'm right and you're wrong?
A seemingly endless spiral of despair and dissatisfaction?
A time and place living in fear of the next epidemic or incoming atomic bomb?
Where's the sense in that? I mean seriously. Why can't we all just get along?
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:51 AM UTC
Do you remember that date,
It was 27 April the year '13,
And it was really very late.
We had a communication-gap cropped-up,
An unavoidable communication-gap it was,
Some misunderstandings had cropped-up.
Though both had our respective liabilities,
I had been overtly angry much to your fears,
I'm still sorry for what I said had brought tears.
I had lamely prophesized in anger,
When we had a no-fun word-war,
I had said very dramatically,
That you'll be married,
Exactly 7 years, 7 months & 7 days later.
Even you yourself were upset at that time,
And we didn't talk for many days.
You felt cheated & even I felt scandalized.
We knew that this tiff will have to end one day,
So we sub-consciously thought we'd test ourselves.
Maybe we knew that it'll end someday if not that day.
Because we are like our favourites Tom & Jerry,
Fighting very seriously but loving all the way along,
So probably that too is an indispensable part of love!
We have laughed it over and left that tiff back,
But hey that prophecy must come true!
Not at all like that you should worry about it,
About having to marry somebody else,
It will be me only who marries you!
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 7:31 AM UTC
Give me Beirut after midnight on a Tuesday
Wednesday morning doesn't need to know we're here
My eyes so dull of aging compromise
Give me the anticipation that will make me feel young again
Things aren't how they used to be but they can be in our minds
Fall in and out of me
My heart is so dizzy and my thoughts so blurry
And you still so pretty, so pretty to me
I want to write you pity love songs until you think of me as pretty, too
And hold your soft hands through a cold autumn stroll through the park
And kiss you credulously in the dark
Yes, sometimes I want to die
Somehow somewhere I am already dead
And you, my light, might not exist
Perhaps we have always been
Alone
Alone
Alone
But right now while listening to The Rip Tide at 1:49 am
Pretend with me
Lie to yourself, too
You're not too shallow
I'm not too broken
You're the right amount of shy
I'm not overtly out-spoken
We are our feeling
We cannot be tamed
We cannot be touched
Us
We are us
We're in love
love
love
love
//
Leave it for tomorrow to decide what is false pretense and real
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 4:53 AM UTC
She asked me to whisper.
Come close, she said, and kiss my hair,
Draw my waist to you with a firm hand,
Tempt me with your gift of phrase.
Before I give in, and I will, she said,
Before you begin to undo my buttons, my belt, my wiry clasps,
I want you to handcuff me with a twist of thought out loud,
And make me eager to risk all for love.
Enlist the moon, our friend, she said,
Under his pale shine make my silvery skin shiver,
Offer me an outrage, she begged,
Your words, as they always do, will ignite an unstoppable fuse,
And before your breath tingles my ear,
Before your lips brazen the naked curve of my neck
And rise the hairs on it,
Before your tongue is welcomed into my curious mouth,
Initiate me with intimate details,
Dampen me with clues.
What do you imagine when you are alone, she asked,
Forlorn under a wool-worn blanket with only a handful of regrets,
In your dreams, she insisted,
Have I danced naked for your friends,
Have I opened and aroused myself at the kitchen table for your early amusement,
Have I watched you eat hot buttered raisin toast,
And orgasmed for you, a loud cry, your coffee still warm,
Ask anything she said,
Do you want me to lift my skirt in a public place,
Wink overtly at other men, and brush them with the back of my hand,
Would you like to tie my arms,
Bend me over the table, slap my *** with your moist palm,
Enter me with rough words and a plea to pull my hair,
Do you want a nun, a naughty neighbour,
An innocent with red cheeks and a look of surprise,
Instruct me, tell me how to misbehave,
Whisper all my names, all the ones you’ve given me,
Make me into two, or three or a thousand
Explore each inside way
And teach me what you crave in immense detail.
There is nothing I won’t do for you, she said
Your wishes, we will inhabit them together.
I love you willfully, unconditionally, she said
It is my way.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Isn’t that glimmer visible?
That wonderful sparkle, like a fly to the light
A shining diamond, an alluring sight
Seeker and seeked and discovered overtly
What fun is its commonality?
Must you spend a two months salary?
But see the gem in the rough
Weighed far less in value
But nonetheless faceted
Judge it harshly shall you?
The trope of the diamond
Has been pried from those eyes
By the multi-facets and spectrums
Of transient angles, translucent drums
Milky or lustrous, a separate conundrum
Choose the opal, akin to the human soul
Shimmering subtly and brightly
Gently and ever-changed nightly
Like the starriest coals
Trill and hover ever-so lightly
Discovering the treasures in the rough
That others could never trust
They’ll lie in waiting, perhaps turn to dust
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 11:52 PM UTC
I'm sitting in a strange man's house reading, "stranger in a strange land",
and resisting the idea that I am another on a strain of poor
marginalized Americans.
I'm a night janitor at an elementary school that goes unnamed.
The kids smile and run past without a second thought.
My boss doesn't ask questions for his own reasons, and I
just want my story to be heard.
My girlfriend is curled up on the futon behind me, and I'm wondering
how I got so lucky.
There's a Francisco De Goya **** hanging above this overtly
post-modern desk, and I'm eating at the soup kitchen tomorrow.
I stay inside most days, wrapped in a blanket, not realizing until too
late that it's actually warm, and that the AC is turned up way too high.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
Old-Self :D
By: Travis R. K. Sanders
Part 1
Ok so most of you think you know who I am and what I am about because you may hang out or communicate with me on a day to day basis but you don’t know anything. Fiend and slave to my body. How the urges are so powerful and how everything else quickly becomes irrelevant. Almost like living a double life but this is who I am and there is no escape. Sleeping with the enemy of the enemies. Uncontrollable and over-powering this ****** desire can be. Finish with one maybe two then moving on to two or three more. What kind of life is this for the beautiful and brilliant mind of such a insecure and vulnerable Virgo? Maybe it has to do with not having a father and I need comfort? Maybe I am over sexed and need it all the time or maybe I am looking for that someone to call my own? I don’t know what it is but it is filthy, ***** and disgusting that I give myself to so many others and have a hard time turning down those who wish to give themselves to me. Is it the lifestyle I live? Being a homosexual man. Surely not all homosexuals are overtly ****** and are in need of some type of ****** gratifications 24/7. Is it nature and has nothing to do with being homosexual but male? Maybe so but I can only imagine and pray that the day that I wake up diseased and infectious never comes. In need of a reality check and soul saving. This nail biting life is not for the faint hearted which I thought once beat with inside of me. Too many men to count but I know the exact number I think but I am no longer sure because that part of me will not open up completely. Yet I want to give it my all and let you in on why I am ashamed to approach those I find attractive not just physically but in mind and soul as well. Instead I lie myself to bed with someone I do not know. Strangers are easy to sleep with, oh my god did I just say that? But I know it is true because I have done it on numerous and multiple occasions. I need help I need it bad, this life I live is so sad. But yet through the weeks the months the years I develop a true heart beat and not the beat of pleasure and I realize finally that this was my old-self.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
The immediate introversion,
A safe solitude.
Alone and alive.
Lacking loneliness,
At this disturbing depth,
Unlike the saliently superficial.
The calming confusion
Relaxes and reassures.
Defiantly deliberate,
And thoroughly thoughtful.
Marvelously mesmerized
By my continuous contemplation.
Overtly observant,
And insightfully introspective.
Fiercely focused
On building and bettering.
I meticulously memorialize,
And succinctly summarize,
My lavish love,
For being
Alone and alive.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
At this age he chews his steak with a knife,
Safely outside his body the little crescents come down,
These many red smiles that he holds in his hand.
He likes her cooking overtly sanguine now.
This added barbarity to make up for his caution
as he shows off to the crows on the fence.
Meanwhile she mutters like cautious clapping;
Voice muffled by her Cupid’s bow, turned down with age
and she only speaks little irritating truths.
French tips awkwardly grip a tin she washes out.
She drops it often with the weight of tomato-ed water
and she winces at every wince he makes.
Now the pages of their days are reflections of the cover.
To all those crows at the window
who notice her nails and his appetite
as much as they notice each other.
Dreaming of the past is for the old and the second choices
but what if they each got that one that got away.
(Return to top)
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC