you paint me red
with your bristles
and tickly stanza's
of old keys
and doors that
could love them
you print me
on blank paper
now i'm bigger than me
bigger like you
tuck me in the cream
pages of your book
and carry me
and I'll be so pleased
bursting inside
like tiny starry fireworks
that will never
be swallowed into
empty space
or open sea
2 comments:
Oh, habits die hard.... and you're my worst one. And you're my all together best one.
I love to write, and I really admire your writing and poetry. I started a couple of blogs myself, one is related to my new online business which you may benefit from, and one is my personal journalism about art/fashion/music/beauty and all that is in my head as well!! Please follow both or the one you like:
http//:www.belladiscounts.blogspot.com
and
http//:www.genesisofsubject.blogspot.com
thank you
xoxox
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