I don’t write poems: a car crash waiting to happen
I don’t write poems: a car crash waiting to happen:
There’s a poem in the way your eyelashes touch your cheek.
There’s a poem in the spun webs that catch the dew and
One in the sparkle of wind chimes
And the light caught in the rain, caught in the headlights moving too fast.There’s a poem, buried deep in the graves
Between the urns and the…
Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/67954569921.
