Tuesday, October 18, 2011

White Board

(Pre-Script: This poem should be read as the song, "The End of The Innocence," #40 on the playlist, plays in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...)(...still waiting...)

We write the truth, our truths-
in red, purple and black,
bruise colors-
they are hard to read even
when you press down,
the ink is old and drying, but
we write because it is still our truth
still our bruises, ours
("if I didn't trust you,
I wouldn't let you write on my whiteboard,"
you said)


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