Some Impossible Pass

September 26, 2013
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And she with beetle eyes squinted at 24 font words
blown into infinity,
betrayed the poem by laughing in irony of her actions
and asked me to beat a confession
but she didn’t know that I was the poet,
burdened by inability to comply
because these words beg a friend and
she was a chalkboard s***, romancing every line into its secrets
and I could have spoken mine,
could have spoken my life,
but instead I partake in surrender.

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