Description
Wednesday, Mar. 10, 2004 @ 10:44 p.m.
My knees creak when I walk,The rubbing of brittle yellowtellsStories of too manyNights with legsTucked under.
My fingers housed glass;thin white linesthat never fadeencrypt my hands withchildhood play.
Swelling, swollen, pulsed with goodintentionsand �knowing better.�My mind acheswith a stranger-She always appearsin silver, solid pools.I swear I knew herbefore.