Monday, May 20, 2013

Unrequited

You can still tear me open
Like an unmarked box
Wrapped in christmas paper
In the middle of may
Found somewhere at the bottom
Of a closet of old coats
You wore in older seasons
And sometimes put on
To look longingly at the past
In dusty mirrors, with
Cracks in their corners
Like the ones forming at the crests
Of your shining eyes
That look down
Dispassionately
On that sagging cardboard form
Too much like the resigned grin
Of your now dead dog
When you found her under the porch
Last christmas
Forgetting
What was left
Under the tree

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Songwriter, Poet, Heretic