Skin Made of Plaster

Wed, 08/07/2013 - 17:38 -- tekight

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The saddest smile I must have never seen.

A note from a friend is wretched with seams.

I lean toward my pen,

Then sigh and fall back,

Landing on soft, solid ground that’s been trekked.

 

A mist of illusion that’s clouded my mind,

Calloused my kind,

Cast out our time.

She’ll be mine.

She’ll be different, she’ll be what you discovered.

I fell from the sky, then came up and hovered.

And saw you, your ways, and I took my own notes.

The cold is coming, let’s throw away our coats.

 

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