2011
09.09

(…)

I… have no idea.  Please don’t ask what this means.  I was just writing this for my hundred words.  The different parts have different patterns, and I was mostly trying to use words.  But I do like reading it aloud for myself…

*

I – stretch out my hand to touch the mirror
my ghostly reflected lips
are cold to my fingertips

you – watch closely from the doorway
your lipstick the colour of heather
a wild moor, a bird of a feather

he – is just a dream
hair like strawberry
skin like cream

she – was always the one who ran
always were since it all began

it – those not worthy of genders
dogs, houses, fish – other pretenders

they – with beaks like traffic cones
and slender, delicate bones

we – watching and waiting
with bated breath anticipating

us –

our echoed laughter ricocheting
this painful sadness mitigating

 

/pao – 9 sept 2011 – 04.13

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