Friday, July 29, 2011

not mine.

That the way light
bounces off your skin
has nothing to do with who you are.

That smokers believe
they need to die a little,
just to go outside.

That art has always hated the frame you put it in
and would lash out,
kicking and screaming in the streets,
if you gave it half a chance.

That the way lovers touch
can not be communicated in words,
no matter how often or how hard you try.

That your body fights your mind
and your mind fights your soul
and your soul fights the world,
to try and figure out what you are.

That sometimes, you're just tired.
That's all.



katherine said...

this is so beautiful.

Tuesdai Noelle said...

This poem made me feel relaxed, peaceful and cheery--cheery in the way of walking.