the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Friday, April 8, 2011

If this city doesn't love me

I searched for the spare key under a sun-bleached welcome mat,
Papercut from that which emerged from a slim envelope
That was slipped from under my front door.
I blame it on the consequence of thermal expansion
That made those heated words so big, but just as heavy.
The statement was your pillow from the bed in your closet
So you just might see your night concluding to net losses.

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