Vicious Aloe
she she she
has no idea
a carnival-poor sleep
she she she
she wishes
for a charcoal night
too serious to be in kind
cascade of callous hearts
the truth is buried deep
in mud, in clay, in stone
he he he
has no idea
a losing circus dream
he he he
he enchants
for a chalkdown wish
we candles in the midnight
from the cradle to the grave
are crying in our closets
for half our lives
at least
Really nice. I Like how you gave the lighs a voice…. environs sometimes have just as much identity as our poem’s human subjects
Thanks, Lisa!