New YearA Poem by yashsickleWhat I thinkPeppered sheets of pure beauties lay sprawled over dying towers of grass-like proportions. Timing surely for a face never seen but hearts lay quiet in between. Mountain sides careen hoping, dreaming, of unwanted soles to tread with unwanted souls. Though I will be here, staring at text, stitched through feelings and truths. But you will be there, hiding in an everlasting line of unsatisfactory booths. Floods of unseen thoughts trickle through imperfections, dying at intersections. Staring at reflections, when I wish to be there. Colliding against syllables, wrapping vision and speaking to a near death like embrace. No past to deface, inevitable future calls us forth. For another year, the 13th, I fear.
© 2013 yashsickleFeatured Review
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