some times, artistic, carefully constructed
at others, it flows from mind to the paper
some times a struggle to explain and define
other times just wide spaces, in between the lines
at times with care and concern of what you may think
but then wild abandon when these words are for me
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visit twice, then leave a "post" that doesn't melt in the Sun,
Yet, disappears unsaved, unsent and inevitably as different from the eloquence before, before
where the spaces felt like I should stand
Phone in hand, spaces and pauses
like waiting
to think,
Before you speak.
Always the driver, albeit right hand man.
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