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Roses Are... Roses Are
telephone wores carry sound
i wonder if someone, somewhere
is unhinging their jaw around your name
i remember you in the sense of
cigarette smoke songs and toxic lungs
expanding like houses in the winter
you said you'd keep me there
behind your ribs
but i have something to remember
to remember and i can't remember it here
red string tied around my finger
and the roses bloom
like limbs of dead lovers
as you unlace me
the days are a quiet disaster
i wake to apprehension and a mirror
i hear you in the weather report
but it's nothing i can't handle
hold in my clumsy hands
fold up to carry in my pocket
i turn the windshield wipers on
and i'm reminded of your eyes
but i have something to remember
to remember and i can't remember it here
red string tied around my finger
and the roses bloom
like limbs of dead lovers
as you unlace me
goodbye
as you unlace me
and there was something
to remember to remember
oh, red string
tied around the limbs of lovers
unlace me from
the roses
__________________
"if you have to wait for it to roar out of you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you, do something else."
so you want to be a writer - Bukowski
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