staring at the wall / i study
the stucco,
analyzing patterns /
and
looking for your name.
i
discover my own, written
backwards,
by the door,
all alone.
someone / put it there
once,
(one day)
thinking of me / and
so,
(still believing)
the world of possibility awaits, and
i
look for it, upside down,
decorative pleats
crying hard
like steam
on
the mirror...
things
always end /where they begin.
No comments:
Post a Comment