aosid's Diaryland Diary

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it's not hard to keep a poker face
in broad daylight
when bikes and buses and beer trucks carve the roads
when buskers stir the air on every corner
and little chores and errands buzz around
and clear the crumbs of time off the table

it was never even hard to keep it
those murmuring twilights
the ones when the city was empty (but for the crowds)
and it was all spinning walks with easy friends
and a million beds were warmer than mine
but mine was fine

but now it's cracking (tells left and right)
these closed nights
who keep all their sounds four blocks back
when tasks and tires have worn themselves out
when ambling alone is the only thing left
(save the blessing of words)

you see,

now there is exactly one bed warmer than mine.
(a bed
or a yard
or a playground
or a winding streetlit path
or a locked front door)

now there are trite lines buzzing in my ear.
what a dream i had
you left me in the dark
your love will fill me as warm as the bullets

now i'm thinking too much again.

but bless words anyways
spill them on the table
twirl them about a bit
blow them all away

things have been
a little more turbulent
since i only have eyes for you.

12:38 a.m. - 2011-09-15

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