Monday, 7 December 2015

I don't want to write something sad
Anything that rhymes with hope
Will do, would you?
I'm tired of edging towards pieces
That I've called home 
Homes of people, pawns
These words are my summer gift for 
The winter in you
For your seasons that never change
And for my sun that never sets.
If I am a memory of what you used to be
Jagged edges of a knife carved with age
A no tattooed across your chest
I want to sleep like an owl in the day
To have you see me
Smiling where I stand
And no, I can't dance
But for you, I'll try

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