Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Past tense

I used to
weave the warp of my dreams
to the weft of your reality.
I used to.

I used to
fold flowers of fantasy
that bloomed when you blinked at me.
I used to.

I even got my self used to
the fact that we weren't,
but we were.
And that one day, I'd say,
we weren't, but we are.

Now I'm used to
silence,
regret,
and the thing that matters,
the truth.

So won't you get used to
the idea of me,
and the idea of missing me.

I used to
love you. 

Wolfish

There is hair Everywhere Behind my knees Between that crease, In my nose Between my brows And just yesterday I Found one on my chin Perhaps...