Suck the sparks from the grinding metal.
I
Look like something I can't be,
I
Sway with the bruised violins.
If I had a rag, I could wipe the honey
That drips from my pores.
If I could think of beauty today, I would.
I
Would take it from under the bridge.
I
Can't breathe without a cottage in the woods.
If I had a book, I'd love to get it signed
By the space that you don't occupy.
I miss the way you had known me so well, and all.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
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