an impromptu poem
to read between the dreams,
and burn the bishop
at the helm.
look at the last,
and pretend to be before,
because I am not waiting
anymore.
sometimes I rhyme,
so sue me,
cold snap like
undone love, barely holding on.
and now, we are downtown
always, as you know, KJ,
because I might be home
before I am known.
putting on old t-shirts
in a new way,
waking up every day
a little bit changed, but not liking it.
face your fears,
not your music,
because all we have is ears
and whats in between and that silly heart down there.