(1.27.03)
sleeping on my own now, unaltered
a tugging at my chest, unrelenting
anxious afternoon perplexions, unanswered
a colored, winding, displaced dream, now ending
time for a callback, you wanted to hear from me
and have i got a story for you.
I was at your doorway
I had something clutched within my hands
But as reached for your face
I realized no one was home - trip, slip, down i tumble
and now my precious gifts are scattered
among your pretty heart-shaped plants.
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