the more of me i see, the less of me i want to be. i feel empty and dreaded and dead inside;
i’m a horn atop a pig’s head;
i still remember dogwood, sitting under my porch;
swinging morning-lilies atop the log,
a fresh throw of frogs on the grass,
pond filled with drains of murkweeds,
sadness in my cabinets
and grief in my drawers.
there are swans all around me
but they are blind
or i am invisible
and i don't know which
i once found myself at a crossroads
i searched within myself
and like they love to say
i took the road less traveled
now i am at the end of the road
i say goodbye and yet i find myself thinking about you again
i think about you in the weeping willow
singing a song of emotions that i do not know
i wonder if given the opportunity
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.