June 28, 2010
By , Kalamazoo, MI
swirls of oil reminiscent of the one the belong to
marks path traveled and those left
hidden memories that were never cleaned from the vast slate of my mind
understatements of times they held.
light butterfly whisperings

murmur of hidden smiles, soft laughter and sly eyes
smears smolder in streaks all stopping short of
stain the glass I view life through
smother me with forgotten warmth
locking me in a glass box
preventing anyone to come in

what I wouldn’t give for some Windex
to wipe away those prints
and the pain.

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