deepundergroundpoetry.com
The First Thing
I could never
win because you
took your stand,
would not give it
up, you with such
little hands.
You had this thought
of me which told me
how I ought to be:
now you are at my door
almost crawling on my floor
you asking for the days
before: want to come in?
win because you
took your stand,
would not give it
up, you with such
little hands.
You had this thought
of me which told me
how I ought to be:
now you are at my door
almost crawling on my floor
you asking for the days
before: want to come in?
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