She always is standing
On a ledge atop the landing
And we feign a smile
Because we’ve reached an understanding
Not to think or dwell on anything of import
Despite this precarious precipice
Our conversation drifts
From the slight to exegesis
Her voice begs for comfort
And I cannot resist
To lie about my relationship with abstraction
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment