skin white crushed velvet
scented with lost memories,
the twinge of bittersweet uncertainty,
salad…
scowls and smiles
somewhere between the two
teetering back and forth depending on
subject.
subjective becomes objective
self weighing opportunity vs. something
that resembles reliability
sadly…
twisting uncomfortably as the one
thing passing moments singing
softly into cold leathery hands
tries to stir lack into luster.
I am the best thing you've never heard of.
I hold a Bachelor's in English, History and Secondary Education, and a Master's in English: Creative Writing, though my appearance belies intelligence.
My goal in life is to write and to be read. It's a modest stretch by most imaginations.
To most I'm amazing.
It all depends on your definition of literary merit.
All poems contained on this blog are ©Thomas Boersma unless otherwise noted.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Poem-A-Day: Day 80
Static Thinking
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