SheFallsSoftly

November must be American because it seems to feel it has the right to encroach upon December’s rightful place.

All of this is going to come back someday and bite me on the ass, I think…. What can you expect from anyone but to do what it takes? It’s not that I’m cut throat… I’m just… ingenuitive.

Wings clear and veined

Slick like fat skimmed off soup
Too small to fly
Attached to dirt-colored skin
Fat hands
No words
But I loved him.
I imagined clipping wings
Like pulling off a dead spider’s legs
They wouldn’t take you anywhere…
But just in case.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 4th, 2007 at 1:17 am and is filed under Useless Whining, Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.