on one hand, I want to be the girl who goes with the flow
who takes what hand she is dealt and just goes along
for the ride, ride her til she bucks ya, all smiles and
sunshine and if it rains tomorrow, don't fret.
on the other hand, I want to be the girl who makes a
difinitive statement about myself, carving and extracting,
constructing myself like a bower bird builds its nest,
eschewing what is wrong with deliberate incision.
Both are gardens of beauty and surprise,
and I am ever torn because I can't have both,
can't be both.
This is a blog of some poetry I wrote at different times. Mostly it's about my broken heart.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
morning to night
did you think of me i asked morning to night ! i will float on those words for days nothing else is getting in
-
this is day ten day ten count 'em onetwothree fourfivesix seveneightnineten nineten ninethen ten Monday to a Wednesday a week past To a ...
-
i count time in years shams but lose count numbers are not my thing my dog is nine. he's nine you know which means i lived here for 8 y...
-
i have stared at this phone what 100 times a day for two days waiting for some message from you i'm not a texting guy you said what is ...
No comments:
Post a Comment