“why don’t you ever write about me?”
you wondered aloud,
one night, in july
eyes trained above my head
whisky-heavy breath
not quite reaching my face
i tried to,
you see,
but my hand ached,
pencil gripped tightly
as i searched for something to write
that i knew
would stay-
something
would stay-
something
(you wouldn’t erase)
That's saying a lot for not having much. I can only imagine how miraculous if you actually did. Keep at it.
ReplyDeleteWake up.
DeleteYou can't force it...if there's nothing to write about that person, perhaps that says something...
ReplyDeleteI'm afraid that if I write about someone's magic it will all be lost.
ReplyDelete/Avy
http://mymotherfuckedmickjagger.blogspot.com
♥
Some things are better left unsaid.
ReplyDelete