You are the song
I can never write
Elusive and perfect
Invisible ink from my pen
But you stain me black and blue
Always in my head in a pool of unsorted words
I sing you through strained lungs
A trail of sounds that I follow
To no end
Only countless beginnings.

You are the song
perfect and unfinished
and I'm just undone.

11/22/2009

Posted on 11/23/2009
Copyright © 2024 Max Phineas