I am a crack.
I am being plastered over.
Not sure whether
I’ll recover.

Sure, it’s true,
now I am smooth,
but I have lost my groove,
and it’s rough
to choose the move
that will my case
quite best behoove,

for, finally,
I seek
not just
the thing that right now soothes,
but the true prize
that can both energize
and satisfy
my too-long-hungry
sweet life tooth.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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