Wednesday, April 2, 2014


I used to make my confessionals to the sea
because I guaranteed a wash away of  the feelings
Tide washed my clothes,
Tide washed my heart
Today I confessed my soul to the wind,
To the sick tinged wind
There were no answers and now --
I am devoid of two big secrets
that were packed up over each other,
like a castle made of ice
They have lingered longingly that their presence requires new filings
in avoidance of cavities.

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