I want to sit beneath the arch
of an old mossy building
see the brick
the vines
the paintings
the lines
how old these roots run
though I am young
see the smell in the air
of wind-tussled hair
feel the cobblestone rough
beneath palms so tough
Clear discs in my eyes They give me sight and beauty But who is looking? This is just a weird little haiku I wrote about my contact lenses. You may notice that a lot of my poetry about feelings has to do with people looking at me and the amount of attention I get. Am I a conceited diva? Probably! But it's my blog so I am unapologetically self-centered here.
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