Poetry, Uncategorized
Comments 2

I Miss Sia

Your music haunts everytime I hear it…

Your whistle whisps across the skin
tingling with the echoes of a melody
and a haunting key

I miss the way you whispered to me…

as if I was your lover
and yet your son
too kemp to keep
and too bold to preach

longing now in empty arms
you shout “I don’t want to die”
as I long for that sensation
of feeling you thru the only means
a voice sprung from a jukebox
as if a finger strung against me


This entry was posted in: Poetry, Uncategorized
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My name is Michael and during my free time I avoid having a day job. Strangely enough, this gives me the freedom to run this blog. I write just about anything that can be considered art. I also occasionally post articles that may or may not be relevant to the theme of this site. You’ve been warned.


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