Musings by The Poet Loriet
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Thirsting for clarity,
I open my fridge and
scream in the night
when I find it full
of milk cartons
bearing my face.
My curtains are torn,
yet I can't see outside
through clouded thoughts
shadowing my
opaque windows.
All roads lead to roam,
and I do so aimlessly,
searching for my crystal ball
in the desert sand.
I mis-laid it and you.
I don't know where you go
anymore or who's cheating who.
I'm just stealing time with
indecision and the wrong map.
I remain stranded
with my thumb up,
a dangerous hitch-hiker
going nowhere with your heart,
a stray looking for a home,
or maybe just a familiar hand
to pet me for awhile.
Feed me.
My bones are starting to
pierce my skin, and I can't
let you see my skeletons.
I think I'm lost,
looking for a beautiful stranger
that knows my favorite
kind of candy.
Do you read me?
Lori Beal
I open my fridge and
scream in the night
when I find it full
of milk cartons
bearing my face.
My curtains are torn,
yet I can't see outside
through clouded thoughts
shadowing my
opaque windows.
All roads lead to roam,
and I do so aimlessly,
searching for my crystal ball
in the desert sand.
I mis-laid it and you.
I don't know where you go
anymore or who's cheating who.
I'm just stealing time with
indecision and the wrong map.
I remain stranded
with my thumb up,
a dangerous hitch-hiker
going nowhere with your heart,
a stray looking for a home,
or maybe just a familiar hand
to pet me for awhile.
Feed me.
My bones are starting to
pierce my skin, and I can't
let you see my skeletons.
I think I'm lost,
looking for a beautiful stranger
that knows my favorite
kind of candy.
Do you read me?
Lori Beal
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