the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Girl, Such A Boy

Temper, temper, weather high,
Your oxygen is trying to hide
To leave you breathless
To leave you restless in the bed of night.
Summer strummed a perfect note
And sequential dates slipped down your throat,
Kept in time, a steady line until the coda;
Pick up in one year with less tan on your shoulders.
The cold is a phantom poking holes in your sheets,
But you are unscathed and still bathed in the heat.
This cold is an atlas that folds all apart
That will not take a threat from the shot of a star.

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