And I couldn’t tell, if anyone here was feeling the way I do
But I’m lonely now, and I don’t know how
To get it back to good
– Matchbox Twenty
she is approximately
751 days behind
the eight ball
the last call
the deadline
that fine line
between late and lost.
she’s tossed
one too many sheets
to the wind
to the sky
and into the trash.
she’s been lapped
zapped
clapped aside
and tried to simply hide
inside her own syllabled skin.
she’s lost
focus, faith
whimsy, will
the thrill
track
,
but she’ll get all
back
one clack
at
a
time.
::
In April, we poem.
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