Could I say what I meant to say, by saying what I will.

Might I write what I may, an expression can’t be stilled.

Tickle me, you tickle now, a thought within my mind.

Trickle down, further down, answers I must find.

Shattered ceilings send falling stars, crashing to the floor.

Please danger, stay afar, I plead forevermore.

Whisper now, I whisper you, a prayer to only her.

Know me now, I know you, a subject to her.

Dying breath, sweet lonely breath, you die in the wind.

Can I now, slowly now, find a beginning to an end?

Writing daily, daily I 

11 thoughts on “S

  1. Pingback: I hate to love poetry. Am I an oxymoron? | Cat in the Cactus

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