“paper doll” finds escape


Disappointed that I can’t become this haze.
become it, submit,
to Solid skies
Liquid air
Still inside my callow lungs
my paper heart is weathered yet,
knows self-imposed rancor all too well
In a big empty world
of those who,
When I look upon their face,
I find “love” in their colored pencil eyes,
and a rosy smile on their colored pencil cheeks
but I was drawn
farther, farther away
sailing in my paper boat down murky streams.
Cut to be a paper doll-
but I am not

so my boat sank,
-though I found comfort in slow, seraphic sadness,
surprising warmth in the deafening silence made by a single raindrop or tear
It seems,
Ink and color fade in water
-as do simple pleasantries
And kind words, in a mind adrift; decidedly so.

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