just like you asked,
my heart is on my sleeve,
staining the fabric,
making it impossible
to put a jacket on.
i am cold as stationary blood.
a vulture roosts
in the hole in my chest
where my heart used to nest
i did this for you,
can you do something for me?
show a little compassion,
drape my jacket
over my shoulders.
that might help a bit.
then leave.
for some reason
i don't care for you
anymore.
all i want is to float
lazily in the sky
waiting for animals to die.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
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