Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Hooks

Low humidity.
Crunch.
What am I doing here, why am I going there?
One quick reminder, brings all my walls down.
Humpty-Dumpty and I.
Just the hooks, there,
Silver and silent.
Silken.
Hang me out to dry, this time.
It's always something.
A shoe, a photograph, some change on the windowsill.
And I'm all gone again.

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