I really like windchimes
and watermelon
and using chopsticks
and laying in the grass
and metaphors.
Metaphors are probably my favorite.
But sometimes beating around the bush is stupid.
And metaphors make it all too easy.
You're butterfly's wings.
You're a shoe-box full of secret things.
And an ancient trunk full of nothings.
You're an unsmoked cigarette, held between my teeth.
And I'm holding the lighter all too close
to this killing thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment