Monday, 23 April 2012

NaPoWriMo Day 23 Poem 18 Dog

Laura calls me a dog, she says 
I make her feel like a bone 
I'm trying to bury. 

Laura, I'm still a child, and
running away is my way of finding myself.

sorry for being so good at putting you down.

your voice was in my walls 
and they wouldn't close their mouths.

Our conversations were ghost trains,
I never knew where we were going with them
but I knew something was going to leap out.

At least we weren't moving too fast.

My intentions weren't disguises
I knew I didn't know what they were.

Laura I am a dog.

Throw your stick
but don't expect me back.

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