Sunday, 31 January 2016

indigo cement

i am society's 
rustic widower;  indigo
cement with infinity wings.
determined palms will cross
over and tie into the other
worlds' freedom because i
am broken skins' dried 
breathing. lost in words
because the space was too
big for us. the i miss you
was too small for us.
 


this will be my last poem

so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...