Built from failed attempts at feeling
For forward unique responses, another address
to walk past, another doorway locking me out. This place of wood beams and silver windows glinting as i waltz past
(When wonders are detailed brush strokes that come to life)graces slip away from my steps as the night grows colder still. wishing for a bed, to lay at rest I gaze at passing drains filling with rainmore and more houses seem to have glitter stuck to sophisticated stucco.
public questions forcing those to their knees and tearing places apart.
wrapping soiled foil around bruises to be hidden.
we live lies of sophistication and brilliance.as we attempt to stabilize ourselves against that undeniable force of hollowness.we fickly call choices against answering,
solitarily rejoicing when you found where you left off.
Reminiscent of chances you missed or had that vanished into the unbearable void that skaters secrets into miss happenings we still chase our dreams.
What is the sum of 11 and 11:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.