I have always been so exacting,
at least as I can recall.
But you withdraw from me
a weak imprecision
that clouds my eyes
too thickly.
I am a child caught within
the webbing
of westward emotions
that cling softly to my hair,
escaping a wind that has loved them
without a gentle touch.
I could enjoy this much more simply
if it all weren't cloaked
in unsaid feelings,
if I were
blind
instead of
dead.
Author notes
Better than the rest
Well?
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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hmmm... a ungentle wind... an unsettling statement. Seems sometimes we can do with a reduced sensory overload.
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Thanks
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I believe I've said it before and I still stand by it: your work is fantastic.
I'm so glad that you're starting to post more often, I've missed reading your stuff.
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Thank you very much
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crap, I wish I had a cigarette right now.
fuck this is good.
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Lol, thank ya
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