My Leftover Cookies


I forgot buttoning up your disclosures

as I ran on those crunched hurdles

If only you had cupped off your hands

I could have swept off the crumbled shatters

and placed it on the vacant thrones

But, they aren’t used to embracing pieces

they are always into plushes

You and I have empty pockets

And the jar has leftover cookies

what shall we had tomorrow mornings

if the jar secured saturated airbags

it’s the only nose, weak in knees

other, evenings, we had drumming bellies

They shall dance to our rhythms

Because, they had always been the mockery nuggets


2 thoughts on “My Leftover Cookies

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