a few lines of mine

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 drops of you land on my skin


and you cool my blood like rain.


 


you are the swing that leaves me


punch drunk and stumbling to catch my balance.


you look at me and I untie


as if I am the ropes that bind you,


as delicate and frail as gossamer.


 


I can’t shake you out of my eyes.


I am held to you like the moon is to the earth –


separate (but a part)


and you cradle me in the kind of sadness


only the moon and I know.


 


what am I?


no more than bird bones and feathers.


I am not a field of wild flowers,


to you or anyone,


but a soft set of wings to carry me through your overcast


so that I can feel your cool rain on my shoulder blades.



Created: Mar 07, 2012

Tags: independent poetry

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