me you make me look I can’t discern
if that is you it sounds like you but then
it’s not - I can’t decide which you is which, of
course just when I stake my claim and take
the plunge you re-emerge, you mock and say
well looky that, a different tune but it won’t fit you
know it won’t so why don’t you come back, you just
can’t just leave me you’d be voiceless, so said V.
|Side of Le Lupin resto, au centre ville last week|
An Art-Official Flower
Their violetness drew me –
such perfect alignment
that day – where the wind was wreaking havoc,
ripping fragile petals from pansy stems
sending street grit into my eyes.
I realize (they’re so discrete, these lavender gems –
peeking mavericks at play!)
I must rescind this counterfeit sign sent.
Their fakeness knew me.
Bled Dry, Oh My
Inkless pen :: wordrust
*V = voice