Wednesday, May 19, 2010

All I want to do

by Laura Whelton

I sit and tear pages from mis- spelt longings.
I have always loved,
Yet not known what I loved.
Like licking a desert,
Or blow drying the rain.

And the tight lipped questions
Spoken in rhyme,
Have a habit of knowing
Just how I have sinned,
While the silver- tongued
Answers have gone with the wind.

And winning alone
Is the same as losing, in time.
And for the most part
I swim in sublime
Mis-truths and half lies
Whispered at dawn

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