2011-4
There is a girl in the cubicle two over,she thinks dreams are dangerous,
her mouth and eyes are full of the shadows of her fears.
Each morning, I nod, smile, say 'hello'.
What I really say is:Fear has devoured your eyes, turned your words into age-scratched negatives.
Every morning she smiles, says 'hi' back.
I wait for it, the crack of the door, the sound of a thousand crows finally flying free, but her hands continue to flap over the keyboard, seeking freedom.
Her words are always age-scratched negatives.
Poetry by Minhocao
Read 458 times
Written on 2011-06-29 at 03:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
