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6.25.2012


I'm not very good at rhyming, but I'm good at rambling. Here's a poem with no title. 


I never could get used to your kisses.
They always felt like a door being locked, a secret being told.
I'm not sure what we were doing, all hushed and closed.
Maybe inside of an infinite skyline we were watched by shadows and whispering leaves.
There was an open door that we kept locking.
But enough of the quiet. I want love to be open, full and willing.
I want it to be equal and the color of the sun on fluffy clouds.
The way the clouds look on a summer night. That kind of pink and happy.
I want it to work and work hard.
I don't want it to be easy.
I want a bike built for two.
One seat for me. One seat for you.
I want the doors to be always open, waiting for us to rush in.
The beds won't be made, the kitchen will be clean, the kids will be dirty.
We might build a house or a garden or both.
But you chose a shadow and a secret.
Hidden behind closed windows,
Inside a quiet house.

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