deepundergroundpoetry.com
mind read
I wake up
a face made of clay
the word you use
molds it for the day
the night we were introduced
my first smile was induced
a smile you produce
molded by you
the next morning
that smile was there
in my mind that feeling
etched now in memory
thirty eight years later
the word of the day
molds my heart the same
what happens in our bed
I don't have a heart
made of bake clay
nor so wet it can't hold shape
you are the potter of the day
so use the word
to shape my heart
to display your need
don't wait for me to mind read
a face made of clay
the word you use
molds it for the day
the night we were introduced
my first smile was induced
a smile you produce
molded by you
the next morning
that smile was there
in my mind that feeling
etched now in memory
thirty eight years later
the word of the day
molds my heart the same
what happens in our bed
I don't have a heart
made of bake clay
nor so wet it can't hold shape
you are the potter of the day
so use the word
to shape my heart
to display your need
don't wait for me to mind read
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