Perfect jewels staring straight at me,
past my skin and into my arteries to find all
the things I hide,
carry.

It’s all about the cinnamon left at the bottom of the mug
and if I can look you in the eye when it’s quiet.

The wind smelled of Halloween
and sometimes I can feel you in the hallways when I walk through the mall.

Photo credit: Flickr / S. Diddy

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2 Comments

 

  1. September 23, 2010  12:07 pm by Jonathan Reply

    Your poetry is fantastic :) Just saying...


  2. October 2, 2010  5:13 am by whythulc Reply

    Oh, thanks! I appreciate it. :)


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