Nov 08, 2007 13:43
Flashes of Lightning
When the world ends,
I'd like to be with you-
holding hands,
or maybe rolling one last joint to soften
the blow of the inevitable.
Because your arms (my Protector)
are where I feel most at peace.
I lean into that familiar scent of
stale tobacco and
sweat
and finally, after so many months,
feel safe once more.
poem
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