Actually, it wasn't meant to be a poem. Just something I jotted down on the fly. But I have yet to find a home for it so I offer it up as a sacrifice to the Demons of the Writer's Block.
(the following has no grounds in reality...)
("dot, dot, dots" hold a lot of weight in my reality)
(take that as you will)
Occasionally A Sentimental and Mildly Cliche Moment in the
Night Time is a Flash of Well Deserved Violence in Disguise, Delivered by a Girl Who
May Not Actually, Considering Recent Developments, Be Receiving that $4,000 Diamond Ring that Is Nestled Warmly in Your Coat Pocket
I thought I saw a shooting star,
but it was just your fist,
but it was just your fist,
all pale and small
in the moonlight
arcing towards my head.
That’s the last thing I remember.
arcing towards my head.
That’s the last thing I remember.
Thank you...
Thank you very much.
Is it wrong for a title to be longer than the actual piece?
