Lost Inspiration

I dug my hands into

the fabrics of my mind,

tickled by the loose stitches,

like soft feathers across

my palm, and I searched

for the lost syllables that

rained down onto my hair,

a young, frivolous haiku trickling

down the lines of my body, kissing

my feet in a rush and disappearing

down the drains without

being born, without a word

of good-bye.

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2 comments

  1. contemplativemoorings · November 12, 2011

    Like a spring rain rolling off thirsty leaves…

  2. Vampire Weather · November 11, 2011

    Your words are so wonderful! I love how you crafted these metaphors. A beautiful verse my friend!

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