Trying

Poetry is trying
  just like lying
  relates to love
it's often black
and sometimes lack
   anything
but minor keys.
Let it burn you,
   like her letters,
but save the ash

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Not yet driftwood really

I’m both driftwood and

an acorn.

disappointment

and potential.

If only I could

chlorophyll,

I might catch the sky,

stretch and oak myself.

    

Instead I willow

bending way

too

low

not knowing how

       to grow.

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