Thursday, December 3, 2009

The Poet's Wife

I have music rotting inside of me
Things I’ve never said eating holes in my teeth.
Truth not expressed turned inward to become
Something worse than a lie.

Someday you’ll be waiting for me
And you’ll look past your nose onto an empty horizon.
I imagine that you’ll miss another face to talk into.

But you will have lost me,
And art to last ages crouching towards becoming.

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