out there somewhere
is the
Love, She, You
of all my poems
the subject of verse
of tripped up words
of microblatherings
of rambling prose
if only i knew
i would jump there in a second
exigent love would bloom
from a release of desperation
for now
i etch my words into these
feathered formats
should she see them
love
you
know i am longing to somehow
be there
No comments:
Post a Comment