..
This poem is a
live wire, a woven liar,
a vowed lyre
with a broken string.
It’s a filament of sigh
and song, a quiet longing
sizzling across the miles.
It’s a caffeine-keyed up
smile, clacked black
against a snowy page.
It’s a barely there
strand of my
-self, pianoed soft
into syllables
only you can hear.
..
November PAD, day 5.
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Again, this is another bipolar poem. 🙂
I love the use of, pianoed.