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I felt it sharp. In my chest. I felt it climbing. Up my neck. Stuck in my throat. An awkward lump. Kept moving up. Into my mouth. My tongue licked. Against its sticky form. Running dry.
Beneath the leather of these shoes, Lays the feet that will walk my road. The the legs above will follow, As my feet below will goad. And above those fateful legs, Is a even more pulling heart.
A heart that can't keep up. A heart that is left behind. A heart that needs a band-aid. A Heart that just need time. A brain that won't control and organize the thoughts.
When I write poems about you. I write with ink because. Pencils actually erase themselves if you ignore them for too long. And ballpoint pens sometimes run out.
[Goodnight/good morning Opuss. Here's a bit of bedtime fun I like to play. It's called Dog Legs.
This is the Title poem from my book of poetry entitled "Phenomenal Amble Magnetism." I hope all who read enjoy :) Even when dreams are absent from sleep I dream of you Thinking I've gotten over...