#finally poetry

[roivoire]

Before, it was a time of novels and songs. It's still that time now, but also it's definitely begun time for poetry. Finally.

[postcardpoet-blog]

to the absent

A parking lot river ruined my socks and across a fire lane your likeness watched. Her hazel-bright eyes lit a store window, hued in brown and red, distorted by rain on the glass. The stare she gave was clean and passing while memories of you sank into my heel. She turned her head to chew on words, not yours, her lips opened a question and I turned away, not yours. Blame curled toward you from coldness in my instep, but the chill moved unfairly, for I was far from where you were.