Woke Up, Wrote Down My Dream
By Khristy Nickerson •
Your soul ricochets off her,
into a corpse
and I've told you,
it is flaws that create perfection,
It is perfections that are defective
It is your flowers that turn foggy,
you can rip your stems,
but you can't mend them,
you'll find they are useless with
superglue
if your heart is in that body,
I love that body
And I will have you know,
it has nothing to do with
the wizard and the witch
in the back of my mind,
for they are happily in love,
they laugh together
on the center of the highest hill,
while sipping on tea,
who else do you think I can rely on
to crochet the blanket
to hide that of my own
faulty?