reading identity

I hang my clothes where I read
As though I need to read what I wear
The fabric a differently spun journey
To the same place of solace and questioning

I'm a deck of tarot I never read anymore
Because I've given up trying to peer into the future
Like it's predictable

Today hides all its answers
Minute by minute
My eye lashes on my pillow, a question
To the presently blue sky
Luke warm coffee an answer
To the not-quite boiled kettled
I poured out in my morning impatience
To wake and see the sunlight
And whether it would be hidden by clouds
Much like myself behind these curtains

(C) Indie Adams 2014
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published | Edited 10th Apr 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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