Aug 26, 2009


with him...i talked of sickles

with you...i want the pitchfork

airate that clay colored soil under those green trees that remind me of your underbrush eyes

eyes that i desperately need on me

kiss me under those stars...stars like the million promises we were both promised

i'll keep them for the sky, as i reminder of what i can hold onto for you

of you

you are a man.

and i am a sorry excuse for a keeper of your stars...
let me keep them anyway

stride with me
will grow

and we shall toast triumphantly, the fruit of our labor

and i'll just will taste sweeter
under promised stars

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