has you in it. I cannot
see you, and your light.
Images as poetry. Poetry as imagery.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Thursday, February 26, 2015
"What were you thinking?"
You will grow tired of me, in time.
You will stop seeing me "that" way.
You will lose your affection for the way that my voice sounds, and my manner of conducting myself, and me - as a whole.
And what will I be, then?
In your eyes....
A spent character.
A discarded memory.
A question that sounds something like,
"What was I thinking?"
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