Love

 

If you could write me 

You’d write wrong 

Right before you 

Say something I’ve said 

 

How could you 

Could you know-how 

You could wait 

Wait till you can 

 

But then 

You’d be too early 

 

Early morning 

I see you sleeping 

Slowly breathing 

A smile slipped 

Across your face 

 

But who could talk

While tangled 

 

Mattie Grace Levy

I'm a black woman, a classically trained oboist, a self-taught composer, and an introspective poet trying to comprehend my thoughts.

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