Friday, January 23, 2015


It seems I am packing away
a lifetime into cardboard boxes,
brown with envy, I cut for myself,
a will for a replay button of some sort
or a majestic magic wand that sorts
untouchable objects, variations of days
mini-holidays and mini-memories
these days I find myself thinking of abstracts
if loving you was like these boxes,
four sided, brown with bruises and heavy
will it unpack by itself and take the weight
of the words ravishing in silence?
or would I need to send it cargo
to future destinations, unbound
hoping the sea wouldn't swallow it whole.

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