Sipping sweetness through a straw
with a hole in the top. Almost
there but not quite. Never make
it on time. I missed the bus
yesterday or was it today
I don't know anymore. I think I
lost a handle to an open door-
don't know how I got there at all.
The wind blew it over and over again,
in my head an awful throb begins
to pound at the very flesh that
breathes all things in and out
of the vicious cycle that starts
with you and me.
-copyright 1995-
Birth sign: Taurus
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by NMW.