deepundergroundpoetry.com
4433: Pattern
4433: Pattern
It has four walls
and it holds me,
at the seams,
through the night.
I usher myself in
from the shivery cold,
to ease experience,
with you gone.
The days stream, adjoined.
The stars swap light -
I am alone,
washed with ideas.
You had a story
sat on the mound,
of our everything,
a static account.
It has four walls
and it holds me,
at the seams,
through the night.
I usher myself in
from the shivery cold,
to ease experience,
with you gone.
The days stream, adjoined.
The stars swap light -
I am alone,
washed with ideas.
You had a story
sat on the mound,
of our everything,
a static account.
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