She gloates about,
her wealth no doubt...
A pen wobbles
at the edge of a wooden desk...
The next time you're blocked,
it's in all facets of life...
Why is it when I talk you can't hear me,
yet when you want to talk, I have to listen...
Crouching in corners
with salt upon wounds...
"I miss you"
He said...
I feel emptiness inside.
It consumes me...
I'll take your comments with a grain of salt
Because I like salty food...
I've written poems for about four years.
And in the same amount of years...
His little frame
peeks around...
On the first day of winter
me good mate sent to me...
Words that are used
to fit the Thought...