Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Smoke



I can remember the exact position of the bare, winter tree branches as they appeared through the window, how they looked like empty arms, the grey, heavy sky. I would be lying on the cheap, black couch, looking over your head. I don't remember your face.

4 comments:

  1. Such perfection. You are such a poet.

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  2. do you know the song, "Everything is Broken?" This made me think of that. So spare, so mournful. Lovely.

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  3. Tara Crowley -- I hadn't listened to that Dylan song in ages and thank you for the reference! It does go nicely with my words.

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  4. so sad. and maybe a little bitter?

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