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post watts muse

dreaming dreams that seem to make
sense but then when she says to think
about it something kicks the gut and
sends me reeling, steeling a glance
hoping that she was kidding but
she wasn't

banking dark
bringing stark
of days and times left standing
in the rain soaked memory or is it
tears that kill the pain

after so many years of filling up
you have to dig out and empty
a life full of hardened edges made
blunt by constant teacher pounding
passed for love now you know that
she wasn't

banking dark
makers mark
feelings pushed back into boxes
flipping clocks and purple toxic
tears that leave a stain

step into the void step lightly
even though the hardest joy
is found in walking apart because
if you don't you'll never know if
you really felt and if you can't
she wasn't

banking dark
tiring park
a weakened joint missed the point
and sailed past a chance for
tears that break the chain


This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on December 15, 2006 6:50 PM.

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