Auctorial Abscondences in Opusculum

Mint On A Hot Day

DISCLAIMER: I'm not good at writing this stuff. So don't expect poetry. Just wanted to copy bettysing's style. I failed miserably, far too interested in keeping the pattern and rhyme consistent than actually writing anything of use. And sorry for kinda being on-the-nose about it Lily, but I'm also not very good at lying.

The library, mint and books,
glint with old wise looks
It's a refuge to the wordless in me

I walk

in, kicked shins from dinner burn
beneath my thin skin.
I can speak without being heard, lest fears be

let talk.

But for me to weave new tales,
leave some words as pales,
And choose carefully which floorboards I tread,

I must

Cleave blank sheaves of theived words,
or crush all these dreams.
Don't speak from deep or they will lord the said

in trust.

I once had someone right here,
"Come sit and I'll hear,
All of your words" and we drank mint milkshakes,

but no,

Bleary tears unclear, see,
I hold this fear dear,
To lose something, now empty mint milkshakes

are those.

Neither am I poet, nor
show what I'm feeling
inside, but I choose to look forwards, to

bright skies,

Know which clothes I chose to
hug myself close, those
far-distant sunsets I look for words to

describe.

Some days the bright pain rips through my
brain and I may cry.
But the hope morrow brings to me outweighs

the bind

I spin with pin-locked grins but,
those grenades intrin-
-sically, cannot explode if I know they 

aren't mine.