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