Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Poetry Tuesday: I don't get it.
Your face is so nice but your nice isn't nicest
What's magic, who's longing, where's heart-smash and heavy breaths?
You're sitting there crisply, you don't move, won't move me
You're quiet, I do think; I don't think you're thinking
Your words slip out pretty but not quite full-flavor
Your hands might be empty, my hands glance away
I crunch your small whispers; they crumble like old age
What's filling you, darling, and where did it go?
Happy Macaron Day, everyone. Do you love them? Because I like them, but if you love them...what exactly do you see in them?