Poemas

I cut you out because you were stealing me. You reached in and grabbed a fistful of ribs,            spaces and corners                      reserved for sleeping                                and almost forgetting.                       And words,                                you took that most of all. You were a lucid dream in the hazy sun,            a shade of black            it was almost blue,                        the scent in every air                                    and every niche,                        a thought in between thoughts,                                    the line in poetry