BWISE

A way to remissness

These eyes seem static,
or all frosted,
from the cold
Clutterings,
in the attic,
so I wont do, as I'm told
I threw a boomerang
You threw it back my way
A note attached, a
bow tie on, with a smattering
Of paint, that you let fall
from your face,
I caught it, undid, all
that I thought was to fold
My mind was on movies,
and your heart just grew old