I abhor
the hallmark card.
the sap
of the tree turned
into ink.
hollow words, for
the weak
and hopeful. the desperate
lovers
wanting
all of it to mean
more
than what it really is.
they pop up like magic
kingdoms,
they sing,
they play music.
they laugh.
they are good for
starting
fires.
I've watched so many burn,
watch them light
up into a dark wind
of ashes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment