I’m starved to hear more of your little secrets,
But not sure if I can handle them.
I can’t even make out exactly what you said.
Your lips are too close to my ear.
The virgin windows of my sheltered house are shattered,
And the timbers are all but sheared.
But please, tell me that one, just one more time,
About the eggplant, and the roses,
The things that make you suck your thumb,
The secret sign language of the deaf,
And I will try to hold up to it,
And try to keep it to myself.
-jenn long
No comments:
Post a Comment