Damn, Sam :: songs and poetry

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Losing Rain Drops
(by me)

A case of misguided identity,
packed nicely,
side by side,
with breath mints,
extra socks,
a bottle of jasmine oil,
pointy shoes,
masks,
and expectation.

She waits in the rain,
the buses come and go,
her name dripping off strands,
of hair,
of time,
of wishing and waiting.

Her ankles turn in,
she is tip toes,
and weak knees,
deliberation,
up down up down up and down,
down again.
Dance with unrequited life,
love.

The car pulls up,
around the bend.
His assault is silent,
her resistance,
like gossamar wings,
tearing.
Somewhere there are bells,
sirens,
sorrow.

Her name in black,
blue lines crossing,
through.

And the mask slips,
for a moment,
pink flesh,
lost and found milk carton,
love letters,
holding a ticket still,
in her hands,
cold.

Tell me your name, again, Sam.

Damn Sam, I Love a Woman That Rains :: Ryan Adams

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