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| Stilts | |
| By mucalatte | ||||||||||
| 10 June 2008 | ||||||||||
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Yeah...a poem. Feel free to comment/critique. I fill my empty words like jars of jelly or catch them like leaking raindrops from the rafters I put masks on the sounds of a reconstructed love and build our wooden whispers back up to working order – to subtle singing structures of marble and chrome But the foundations have been washed away from how I feel for you and left behind are only Stilts bent against the wind and sea When I come home again we’ll shore them up with clay – we’ll put down buckets beneath the tearstained roof and kiss and laugh together as if the ruins around us have grown whole – restored to their former grandeur You’ll hold me up tonight but both of us will fall when the old wood snaps the memory of your touch and my words crumble in on themselves And I lose you to the tides of too far away As they wash up against these useless wooden legs
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