Barlot ...

Possible, Conceivable

Your name sparks in me a tissy
Wondering if you miss much as I miss you
And thinking of the damage three months can do
And the ways in which we've changed already
Then I realize-steady and steady...we get it.
So if the glove fits-take her
If not-rape her?
No, no, no
Dialogue confusion!
Clearly the only solution is in the stars
Neither of us even have cars, it's true
Love ran on brainwaves-
Not fossil fuels
What is to come? and what do we do?
One million miles of solitude-
Until a destination is reached
I should've told you long before you left the beach...
But time is not at my will
Possibly not even real
Possible, Conceivable-
It's almost unbelievable how much attachment is growing
But unlike the eleventh finger from my wrist
This, my love, is not a cyst.
Well, I hope not.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, February 17, 2007
Poem Edited: Wednesday, January 19, 2011

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Maya Angelou

Caged Bird

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