i feel these girls
out like rubik’s cubes
and then i feel them up
like braille picassos
almost reading their minds
i thumb thru their thoughts
and ear-mark their insecurities
getting inside their heads
i pour over past pains like
passports and catch a train
of thought straight to their hearts
where i piece together their
pensiveness like a puzzle
creating mental pictures of happiness
that thru their imaginations look
more like masterpieces and less
like the crudely traced knock-offs
they actually are—
1 comment:
ha, love the ending.
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