Wednesday, August 11, 2010

The Same




Oh, but that my voice would fall upon ears that not only listened
but reverberated with joy and ecstasy like that of a man struck deaf
by the last soothing symphony he ever heard in his life
That my lips be devoured like a last meal
That my breath be taken and never given back
Oh, how my body longs to align like stars with another's
How my eyes wish they held something memorable
and worth seeing
Yet I am closed out
Laughed at
Weak
Or an object
Every story ends the same


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