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If I'd
I wear your jacket
when it isn't cold
it's getting old
getting old.
The rear view
spells your name
backward
as I reverse.
It's all garbage
I just can't rhyme
anymore
and it's still my ink
injected in my veins
seeping from my pores
ground in the salt
of my wounds.
It's snowing now
it's getting cold
getting cold.
I need a jacket.
It's a beautiful poem. You brought us into the experience as only a poet can do. Simply beautiful.
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 36,000 poems.
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of yours that "did something" to me. I wont congratulate you on the E,( as obtaining one is never the intent when one writes a poem here) but I will say congrats on such an interesting, thought provoking poem. Good work, it is a pleasure to read and re-read.
maria