Send This Smile

2nd April 2009

You make it real for me.
So deafness do us, is that ecstasy?
To be so softly spoken and to hold a small heart;
My notebook’s pages softly flow.
My legs shake with an awkward fear,
     for I don’t want to go; I shed a tear.
Poems that have their words fly like a bullet train on wheels,
oh I feel. The small world that lies ahead.
For missing ten trains and feeling the damp air holding me down.
Who are you talking to?
Are you leaving me to wither in denial,
     to watch; to feel virtue –
Disarm.
To feel my hair warm my ears.

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