Dark Smudge Font

Oh how it Bleeds

If you were a young typewriter
(which you might have been)
I would have cared more carefully what words you sat under
but you lied a bit
with your silence and innocence
brewing all the while
like storm and music
you had back pages going
you never mentioned to us
writing books
on the opposites of what we shared

oh how I miss you
and sad-crank your return carriage

your beautiful banter
your moody of sadnesses
your pretensions at innocence
and faux-love for God

you were many different girls
and women
like piano print pegs
needing deep smack of fingers
to even get one sound
not like our modern keyboards
you were royal clack cold
wrapped and hidden in gutter urch’d clothes

why did you cloak among us
sulk and play stupid
when wiser than most

I think I’ve decided now
I’ve seen it beforewards
you already had a plan
set to launch out for darkness
we beheld you different
like flower yet ascending
but you were diving rocket
just in last search
of some white-out