Friday, October 26, 2012

This isn't pretty poetry.

I keep the window open
She tells me what she's feeling
Neither of us worried
Because she's funny that way
I'd never have to ask
And neither does she
Enveloped in a grey haze
She hurls herself through the screen
And collects in pools along my windowsill
I keep the window open
Because afterall, 1/6 is a generous amount of pie

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