

Equidae.Equidae; steal me home. Mountains grow like finger nails,Equidae.
And your legs are Weak.
I'll wear the bridle,
You bite at the stars.
Between you, me and the constellations
No yoke could keep us
apart.
So gallop, but glide.
Linger and hide.
You're frothing an


Pianist.She said, "Write a song and make me fall in love with you." I said,"I'm not such a linguist and those words are endless." She said, "You've traveled the earth's heartstrings and you grow weak in my aorta?" I laughed. She said, "How could you deny it" I said, "It's your tear ducts I rest in." She cried. I said, "My fingers shatter on piano keys." She said, "Your fingers belong elsewhere." And there they'd linger.Pianist.
I said, "Guitar strings make messes of fingertips, and they'd feel cold upon your skin." She said, "Then I'd become ice under yours." So I sang,
I'm


And I Burn.I know now it was a bad idea. They kept you covered until you were ashes, wouldn't share a single inch of you. I picked you out, I made you trust me, but they poured the gasoline and told me to get out of the way.And I Burn.
No one wanted to be a bigger part of your life than I, but I could just watch as the flames made canvas of your body. You knew it wasn't fatal, I told you it hurts only if you asked it to, still, I comforted you in all your lack of color.
Though now, when you force your feet to the ground and your knees apart , you tell me your glad I wasn'
--
I have a first-class memory, the only defect is it isn't reliable.
Sappho was a right-on woman.
Inmate?
--
I'm sharing lungs.
--
I have a first-class memory, the only defect is it isn't reliable.
Sappho was a right-on woman.
--
I'm sharing lungs.
--
I have a first-class memory, the only defect is it isn't reliable.
Sappho was a right-on woman.
--
There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy.
~~But why is the rum gone?~~
Springfield, MO Artists Forum
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