poem | I know, I don’t know

I know she collects ropes
I know she’s learning code
I know she likes the snow
but hates the snow-covered road

I know the sun gives her glow
I know her bare feet and toes
I know she’s got just one coat
Because she’s hardly ever cold

I know the touch of her flannel
I know the tenderness she shows
I know her big book full of notes
But I don’t think I know what she wrote

I know her shadows
I know of her hopes
I know anecdotes
But I don’t know her ghosts

I know her four-minute bio
So I think I know her soul
But what if her soul gets cold
I don’t know where her soul calls home

I don’t know her home zip code
or how to carry her load
I don’t know what makes her whole
I don’t know, really, where to go

I know how her nails grow
I know how her song goes
But I won’t ever know
Just how I could let her go

Oh, just how our story goes
Oh, just how our stories go
Oh, just how our story goes

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An artist in, of, for, at life. My very life is my performance art. I write short and sweet (and savory) stories and poems in this grand performance ( •◡•) ♪

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ooaagarden

ooaagarden

An artist in, of, for, at life. My very life is my performance art. I write short and sweet (and savory) stories and poems in this grand performance ( •◡•) ♪

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