December 15, 2011
#10 What if? (1)
What if all my pillows of sleep
those gather near your breasts
curl into a tissue of tears and scars?
My street lights went mellow,
you walked on my petals,
I breathe like your treadmill,
you catch the shadows and paint
you pebbles of paths,
we’ll never walk or cry together.
Nectar in your eyes,
I’ll never regret.
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