Butch Femme · Uncategorized

Just A Fishing Pole In Her Hand

38

Now that it’s want, there’s no need,

she cut so deep but you didn’t bleed,

she lifted to your lips without a kiss,

leaned in but nothing came of your wish,

when the river rolls,

you know she’s wild,

when the wind blows,

you know she goes,

you sing a pretty song,

just not one she’ll believe,

you don’t know her melody,

just a fishing pole in her hand,

you never did understand,

she was casting into the sea of demons,

with every step her roots deepened,

the only way to know her is to drown,

the only one way to catch your breath,

is to go down,

but you don’t know her

depths,

when the river rolls,

you know she’s wild,

when the wind blows,

you know she goes,

you sing a pretty song,

just not one she’ll believe,

you don’t know her melody,

She walked away,

because you wanted her to stay,

she wrote those words in a day,

but it was all written,

as she came, she was going away,

promises made of paper and rain,

how the words dripped off that page,

now she writes and wonders if she’ll ever be sate,

she’s heading down an open road, she won’t wait,

there’s a star she sees in every sky,

laying on her back as the wind lets out a sigh,

she’s traveled miles away in her mind,

she’s always grounded but never confined,

when the river rolls,

you know she’s wild,

when the wind blows,

you know she goes,

you sing a pretty song,

just not one she’ll believe,

you don’t know her melody,

so caught up in your fantasies,

she was in the mood for catch and release,

the lines she traces in the looking glass,

they’re ones you wrote in the past,

she may have released the beauty to you,

the days and months she looked right through,

the mountains she climbed, the wind on her skin,

she pushed herself to the top on the stones of your sin,

and when the angels come to take her home,

there will be no sorrow, nothing left to come,

only the place where the pieces of heaven belong,

and she will sing her song at the throne,

when the river rolls,

you know she’s wild,

when the wind blows,

you know she goes,

you sing a pretty song,

just not one she’ll believe,

you don’t know her melody,

but there’s a time she’ll have her wings,

when the river rolls, in the wind,

and you’ll drown in the words she sings,

where the pieces of her heaven come together…again

 angel

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