Tonight I feel like screaming,
and running head first
into a more possible Me.
But here I am before an open window,
wishing the stars were my body's atoms,
longing for the north wind green.
Longing for the arctic white,
at sunset I go howling into the Taiga,
Taiga of my frosted breath, Taiga of my girlhood boots.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment