Monday, August 5, 2013

Listening to Vanna in mid-December

If the roof caved in
eight years ago

then where have I been since?


Dreaming you back to life
in the most somber
of states of being

on the most melancholy
of nights.

And every middle –

I just had to die.

Sickening deep depressions
with the intensity
of a teenager’s broken heart.


If the rain had only
skipped a night

If you were merely
a memory

if you weren’t even that

when the roof caved in
eight years ago.

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