When you think you've got it all figured out
its all left in a faded smudge.
And idea gone wrong.
But you don't even know
how big this iceberg of mistakes is.
You cant see what's not there.
Oh, but it can see you.
It's ready to pounce
like the southern winds
of a hurricane
pressing into the shingles of time.
Collected to create the roof
you rest your head under.
When you try to make sense
of this disaster, call me.
I'll be there to remind you
where my roof is.
2 comments:
Hey, lady. I just wanted to thank you for your gift of poetry. You wrote something beautiful - as per usual - and I am honored that it happened to be about me this time. What a thoughtful gesture. I will keep your words forever, and, I promise I will always be listening. :)
pressing into the shingles of time.
Collected to create the roof
you rest your head under.
chlooooooo=]
mh that is geniiuusss
i love you=]
weeee chillin next weekend yoooo?
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