Sometimes, I write poems.
Saturday, February 04, 2012
You cannot press against me, bringing worry
into my leisure.
This is not all I have to say --
As I think of it, the nights when your embrace
was a trick, are over. You were ever, a moon.
Using me. Granted, we all have a hidden side.
I wish I had seen yours, because what I got
was cratered. And so, un-spinning, I send you.
-- why could you not have turned toward me?
-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --
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