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Saturday, December 26, 2009

We,


I, like a small bird,
a freckle on the face
of the atmosphere.
You, like a sleek feral cat,
a curve of heat focused
on [your own] survival.
We, like polar opposites
and doppelgängers, were
never meant to meet. So
twist those telephone lines
around us dear,
we will never be closer
than where we are now.








From this, we can infer that I fail at a lot of other things besides communication.

1 comment:

alia said...

but at least you don't fail at poetry =)