Wednesday, December 5, 2012

This is the picture of both of us, but I'm not in it.

My mind is in winter mode. Even the prettiest things seem ugly.
Spring should be on its way soon. The sad white of the street tells me that.
I don't need to be consoled. I need to be wounded by a sword.

Deep inside I'm not a sophisticated poetry-eater.
Deep inside I'm a brown chubby cat that needs to be cuddled.

I might wake up any day now..
I might wake up any day..
I might wake up any..
I might wake up..
I might wake..
I might..


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