4.20.2011

untitled/incomplete {napowrimo '11, #20}

i was fine until
you cried.

trees
don't fall down
in a mere breeze.

sap-tears run down my arms,
too sticky for kleenex.

i'll have to bathe
in the river
to wash away your sorrow.

womanlove
doesn't repair
roots
bark
branches...

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