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Poetry By: Kathryn

5, 6, 7, 8, 9...

Submitted:Mar 2, 2008    Reads: 178    Comments: 3    Likes: 3   

this picturesque moment

can only be captured in the confines of a photobooth

the light flashes

picture takes a blurry mess of faces and smiles

a printer spits out photo squares and we divvy them up


phone rings, doorbell sings your arrival

droopy eyes and tired sighs follow me to open the door

i did not sleep again as you can tell

i stayed up late because i knew i had to

make up my mind

about the two of us


a new york restaurant dimly lit makes

me crave dessert

i feel myself melting in the candlelight

shared taxi takes

us to your downtown apartment outside the rundown movie theatre

there in the middle of your doorway

i unravel myself in front of you


dressing room mirrors and bad lighting

are the least anticipated part of the day

waiting lines and lines of weight keep me closing my eyes

not a weight on the outside

but the inside kind that makes your shoulders droop

and your posture stoop

and your feet drag

because there is a heaviness within you


the delicacy of sound is ruined by the

loud concert speakers drumming in my ears

the people screaming fears

of the end of the world

strangers' glances and quiet stares

stop talking, keep dancing

these boys are all entrancing with their glancing

at me in high heels and lace

and it is all corroborated my the look on my face


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