Monday, January 23, 2012

Vivian

You wear that fur like a robe
Wrap it tight
Pretend not to care
You stalk off at the mention of a name
But in the night
Or on those nostalgic smoke and vinyl days
You become soft
Passing hand through hair
And fingers at the temple
You lay on red wool blankets
Lazy and absent minded
Hand placed on hand like a prayer

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