The icing of the cake
rolls off my tongue
the chocolate drips
on my chin
I was not supposed to dance with sugar
I hold these moments close
as I speak to myself these days
I never wanted to be alone
I speak to myself through my journals
and find I am my best
friend now
that Jim is away
The doors of the mind open
They rest on silver tongues
that are silent now
as the sea of memory
Reality is quiet halls
stilled mornings
Picchu holdings
open space..................
Lovi
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