Tuesday, May 29, 2012

131


I can't conduct myself 
in meter or rhyme
I sprawl 
crooked across the page
fingers brushing fragments 
of words
knees scraping through lines 
my unruly curls 
scrawling truths I glean
from passing glances
and that song 
you always sing
loops  haphazardly
tattooed upon my flesh

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