Dust

By
Maybe, if I clench my eyes
and hold the reigns tight
against this great mass of beast,
I can pretend that you are here
riding in the scuffed saddle with me,
instead of carving a lonely place inside
my mildly decaying brain.
I want to miss you, instead of just
wishing you were here,
because then I could see you in my hands
instead of the eyeless specters
that stare mournfully from tourist traps.
I want to sound poetic, but i am just
pitiful and seemingly self-loathing.
I really don't know what I want from this summer,
other than you.





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kadeykan123 said...
Aug. 17, 2008 at 5:01 pm
This is okay, and might have meaning to the author, but to people who are just reading it, I personally think it's difficult to follow, it has poor flow, you know?
 
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