Wednesday, October 29, 2014


this standing on the edge of the cliff
this grasping
this wanting to fly
feeling your dry lips touch mine
my hips, that are merely hipbones
move move sway
into your total darkness
swirl swirl
my wings that are still white
still 20 feet diameter
your black feathers all around as i fight
and you stand calm
untouched by my turmoil
i drop my head and out of the corner of my eye i see the blue metallic shine
everyday i have a new plan
of what is wrong now
and what was once so right
so very right
so chocolaty syrup
what were the pure chocolate bits that your beautiful fingers got out of the baggy and placed in my mouth
was it the touch of your fingers or that raw taste
of pure glory
i get up and fly
if only my wingtips could touch you

time will tell

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