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I always thought that
(oh, someday...)
when I found someone,
when I had something,
I would be full of words.
Laments modulating into odes.
Bitterly cleansing rhymes mellowing, sweetening.
Singing rooftop lovesongs.
My tongue would dance with "you"s and "heart"s and adjectives.
But
I won't write about you,
yet.
I will bask in waking warm --
not exhale you as syllables.

no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 03:02 am (UTC)