Published by Weightless Cogs on 2009-09-24 11:15:40
you’re the stubborn wrinkle on her dress
the essay question on the test
the smell of onions on my breath
begging when there’s nothing left
you’re all of my regrets,
and yet you always resurrect from the
bones when you were left for dead
you were a mouse.
I can feel the pinch, the pain, the nag
the mouse that rips the bottom of the bag
it is not aware of harm it has done
it is lost in the walls of your condominium
yet it is free…
