Glue

the magic of poems is simple
no need for a rhyme
it doesn`t cost a dime
the magic of poems is a wrinkle
a wrinkle on the face of dreams
a smile in a rainy day
a wink to a stranger
it`s as easy as it seems
i ain`t a good poet
i ain`t even a decent one
just hands with a cigarette
oh, my neck is cracking
got that feeling wrapping
all around myself
poems are the liquid
laying at the bottom
of an empty bottle
the bite, dropped at the ground
silent screams to oblivion
wrinkle on the face of dreams
a placebo to a brighter eye
a gate to the open sky
the emotion of bitterness
when rhyme is needlessness
i, myself am a poem
you are one too
i am getting sleepy
i hope you dreamed of glue
why shower now and then
when it simply can`t
can`t wash away the true
honest feeling of doom
there, a black hole smiling
pulling me towards
its calm embrace
not gates, nor doors
just a friendly face
my lost words are hiding
i can sense them lurking
but it ain`t bout finding
it`s about the glue
it`s about you.