Thursday, October 15, 2015

Emotions are rarely tidy.

For a thousand years,
We talked,
About all these things,
That just don't make sense,
In these lifes we live,
Once we finished,
He said to me,
"Guess that just it,
I sing and compose,
When you write your prose,
All to give this world,
These emotions running,
Away with every thought,
You owned,
A place to stay,
Outside of our bodies..."
And that was it,
Literally,
All it is,
For a thousand years,
We talked,
When silence ended,
Our conversation.

Creative minds are rarely tidy...























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