"zelda fitzgerald"

today I feel poetry in my bones
and I’m ashamed.
why poetry only in my bones?

today I feel like talking
to strangers in suspicious alleys.
and, sure, I’m ashamed.
cause streets are full so empty
and poetry fits none.

You that once was poetry itself
And like poetry went on
fire in a restless sanatorium bed.

today I feel like dancing naked
like the once “flapper” Zelda
and I’m complete.
cause shame is nothing more
than reaching poetry.

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