kay. good. you're welcome :)

 

I know the mistruths

the withheld

the dance around

coal; blazed abound

It’s just a face

just a past

an old flame

a family of wicks

and dripping wax

I will wear your paper bag

like a lung collapse

as if to admit a fault

For how could I fight

a fire so dim but yet so spread?

How could I, with gasoline feet

and greasy hands,

bare my own match?

I should have never known

I should have never asked

View anflanagan's Full Portfolio
Blink's picture

There are many

Like you yourself described. But if no one strikes a match, how can we see in the darkness?


Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes, that way, when you insult them, you're a mile away, and you have their shoes.
~Anonymous