Oh God,
     you're there...

your bloodstained
            pixellated inkmark
    bittersweet
remembrance piece of poetry
        betrays the person I had always
  thought I'd caught
in glimpses
withered mirror
                shots
and journal speakouts
                  drenched
in syrup
     summers.


I shook and read
                         and shook
        and read again
                         each single piece
   and held the words,
                         [I held back everything]
and sighed.


In your mind
   that age old
      worn and weary
   oh-so-very-charming--

{gasp}

     freedom that my logic
won't adhere to

    taint
mosiac
       fantastic
   oblivion escapade
(made with old pieces
              of broken antiquity)
thoughtpatternWONDERFULrandomexchange

of a neuron
           for Godgiven
                         masterpiece.



And you wish for nothing
but beautiful words
in your name?

                  There aren't enough,
                              as you
                                may never
                                         see.

12/22/2004

Posted on 12/23/2004
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia