August 26

If we were to end every thought
with the pun, I would tell you
that I have prayed for miracles (in bed)

big and small, for the one beside me
to hear my calls, for my heart
to be opened and luck to roll out (in bed)

to wake tomorrow at thirteen
and know the world unfolding,
for happiness to fill me head to toe.

The secrets I know are whispers
coming back across the veil,
a laughing god willing to offer

both condolences and magic,
good wishes and good thoughts
knowing that I will choose (did choose)

this same life. Though it could be
one misfired neuron, or the voice of the sun,
far away but constant and warming.



A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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