I feel as if
I was only given one choice.
I could be exactly like him,
as genetics dictated
or just like her
a person I absolutely hated.
Well now as life is so cruel
the tables have turned around
I am like her more than ever
and despise him more, I've found.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tickle your toes. . .
-
two squinting painted eyes looking solemn on a leathery face. this knight of the golden age has a 20 gallon bucket of a hat atop his slicked... -
July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
-
to have sticky pins for fingertips and ballpoint pens for thumbs. then I could fascinate myself to you, and write away doldrums.
-
our silence comes easy and there is much to it the commingling of our fingers and the swapping of palm oils and the nimble saltation of ...
-
July 9th i feel like running again. it's either that or swimming in a valley of tears. July 10th you couldn't tell by looking at us,...
-
Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
-
Rain, dearest friend. You know just when to pound on my head. I know there is more to this world, than what I have given from inside myself....
-
Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
-
husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
-
The ache in my jaw reminds me of my age, that I'm still cutting teeth on broken sage and giving up meat is my best bet, because I'm ...
Poets United Contributor
aww...ain't that always the way it goes. but you can change her legacy by creating your own. <3
ReplyDeleteBravo.
ReplyDeleteThis is profound.