august poetry

dark waves lap against

these walls and words tumble out

a grasp at what’s gone

 

here, look at this one:

my smile broad and clouded

blocking out the sun

 

here, look: teenage years

here are angst and heartbreak, two

a.m., summer nights

 

i am well aware:

stranger things have happened

things that mattered more

 

but nostalgia is:

gold waves; coal tar and honey;

august poetry.

 

 

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