I am an elevator midway
between one and another floor
just another lost soul with one
foot in and one out the door.
I am every single stupid
damn glittering metaphor
of a heart beating restless and
hands that can’t help wanting more-
an aching whimper when
I am used to being a roar!
But how do I begin the
future I know is in store
to stop being a line in a poem
and become the stuff of lore?

BB

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