May 16, 2025
More in Old Poetry from DMV No Substance
I heard a tiny whisper The words I poured Then squeezed From the ends of my aorta Lacked substance
So let me put it in terms You may understand
I love you like that steak Aged twenty eight and one quarter days Grilled just outside of rare Smothered in saut351ed mushrooms And neighbour to A Yukon Gold potato Baked and stuffed With all the fixin's
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