Thursday, June 11, 2009

Sea-son

These aren't seasons
that pass my dear
I think that I'm
passing too slowly
undressing too quickly

I couldn't tell you
how heavy it is
to have limbs
they're aching 
they want to 
wind around
you softly

Like bandages
I'm bursting

I couldn't tell you
how healing I'd be

Less like summer
more like sinking

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