Writer

I was a writer,
a poet of pretentious extension,
mindless prattle.
A falling star, blazing once,
wishing forever to shine.
To elicit sweet, a gasp of pleasure,
treasure taken, raided from your mind.
Crisp, crush, thorough, through your heart,
to see, I’ve written it all for you,
always.
For you to see

me

and who I am.

(brushed up 8/1/16)

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