the wind left my door open
and in came the rain,
in came the rain;
he blurred my pictures of you
by dulling my pain.
and like Spandau Ballet: it’s true
that the wind left and
left my door ajar
and I never thought I’d go as far
to forget instead of coping.
Yet Another Untitled Poem Serving as a Journal Entry
Posted: April 3, 1993 in PoetryTags: Rain, Truth, Wind
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