It’s funny how
when I’m supermarket shopping you pop up
between the beans and the has-beens… naked…
I’d ask,
Isn’t it enough that you invade my dreams?
if I really minded at all…
and you know I don’t.

Thoughts of you in the day are an inevitable sweetness
through evenings I dream of you
lying in the dark that usually belongs
to us and our whispers, secrets of the flesh, and songs
that go on so loud and so long
that they’re echoing, days after you’re gone.

when I’m uninspired
that sweet darkness refuses to be seen,
refuses to come out from hiding and out of my pen
little indents in the page
hundreds of them
are testimony to this heart
trying to get something out
before it explodes

then it’d become me and I it
the sweet familiar dark
and images of your eyes

January ’07


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

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All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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