Saturday, October 30, 2010

Day 470: sometimes, i dream in your prismacolor still

"I hear heartbeats and see crumpled paper when I sleep"
they tell stories of other palms
and skins
and bloods
i wonder how i fit there
if i could scribe you a letter than would make your heart stutter
would you read me proper
i wonder
there are so many secrets we've come to be
broken in our own histories
pursing ourselves to be more then we are meant
and allowing our own failure to occur there

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