August 21, 2009
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Things I've adored
like blank carpeted hills and you've gone missing
the dizzy facade drapes my dreams around my head
but doesn't make much sense in the morning
like days your words fled soaring
I'm on the boat that you've stopped oaring
it shouldn't feel this way but it is
and I stop it every chance I get
with half glances at broken mirrors
the glass crapes my feet and I tip toe
along fresh woven grass; it's soft
but my head still turns to the sky
as if the answers were right there
time ticks space and I'm ticked wrong
it's been this way all along
what has been here has always been gone.

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