wet streets

precariously i move-
like songs that cut off mid
line, like orators who whisper
for emphasis – between the raindrops,
between the headlights, between
the lips of your next word.
i would shout
if i were to be heard.
i would lose
if i could find you.
i would wait
if only you asked me to.

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About ky

Poet. Photographer. Writer. Goddess. View all posts by ky

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