Friday, June 8, 2012

She is




She is the strangest person I ever met
There like a doll stuffed with dreams
Photos in her hands like a dealing deck
Without jokers, wildcards or seams

She is without exception complicated
The way a perfect cube might be
Starting as a sphere she got straight edges
That soon cut across me

She, the woman, that came and went
Mostly at night texting lightly here
“Call me if you can,” she always said
As if we both had something to fear

But that last time she went, we went for good
Knowing that we both fully understood.

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