Antelope

She won’t understand these words Her ears are those of husks and caves with no
Echo
Her eyes are oysters hiding pearls of tears Her nerves are winged black birds
Echo
Her heart is the thump underneath my feet Her fingers twist my words into an
Echo
Her voice is the rising sun Hot with memories and feelings of him

And yet

I need for her to listen To the running antelope inside of me
Echo
I need for her to hug me To take what I say and drink it silently
Echo
I need for her to speak like I am someone A person who is not always going to
Echo

Her past.

#3

Hello my lovelies. I am Pepe and this will be my third attempt at blogging.

This time I will be better because I cannot escape poetry. Is it because poetry is my escape?

Peps