Love’s just another mix on the iPod
unabashedly listening to other’s odes to you
opening myself up to one more (and one more) heartache
because two tracks later we’ll be in love again
whoever you may be
I’m sure you’ll like dancing to this next one
Poetry’s just another way to kill time
another scribble in the margin
near infinity but above the hash marks and flowers
maybe Shakespeare was no good
at drawing roses either
Happiness is just a stomachache
and why aren’t you in bed already
you should be more responsible
tomorrow’s Monday
and what was I saying
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4 comments:
I just want you to know that I have you listed in my Reader and am alerted when you post something. You have a very singular way with words and I am always rewarded by some gem when you post, like this one. I know I look for comments to see if anyone is out there listening: yes, there is. Thank you.
to all the words that got the way to the doors that open within
DJan: Thank you! Your visits are most welcome.
JS: Here, here
This one's been rumbling for a few days, since I first read it: the lives of us inside of others' lives inside of others' lives inside of...slapdown of Master Will, all in perspective, and all just as certainly not...
Rumble on...
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