Some Kind of Ode
My old friend:
When will you run dry?
You are so familiar,
Some days I forget your pain.
I write to you every night,
Words unconsciously composed
In my dreams.
If only I could give you one cold shoulder
And you would disappear.
It would be a mistake, of course.
Without you
I am not me.
Copyright © Lisa B | Year Posted 2008
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