Poetry · Writing

Blessed

felt it

when you touched my hand

when you whispered in my ear

when you said my poems were good

when you smile in my general direction.

Maybe I was just in a lucky room
blue drapes around the rainbow carpet.

I like to believe it was because of me. Faulty

reasoning on a butcher’s knife two hams

away from a sandwich.

She’ll ask me later what that means.

I’ll tell her it was just so you

could talk to me for an hour or two.

 

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