Thursday, June 6, 2013

Permanent Vacation

Heavy suitcases leave an unwavering sorrow
The wheels shutter against the ground like wings made of rubber and iron rod
It's zippers fly like whispering secrets of yesterday's remorse 
My tired hands long to loosen their grip as steady waterfalls pool beneath my trembling chin
Unable to let go, empty sockets between my fingers entangle strands of forget-me-knots and I drift into a sea of dreams
If time machines replaced telephones, would we learn to fly? 

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