Reflecting on My Metaphor

i am a typewriter and someone else is pressing the keys

i am a match that won’t light

i am yarn, frayed and unraveling

i am glue that never dries

i am words written backwards

i am a stone that can’t skip

i am lukewarm coffee

i am a pen out of ink

i am an empty spool of thread

i am a threadbare sweater

i am a left sock without a right

i am a flower, always wilting

i am written in an unspoken language

i am all consonants and no vowels

i am a broken vase, not yet mended with gold

i am a butterfly with broken wings

i am an owl without voice

i am loaded scales with no counter weights

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Lines from Starbucks/081211?

Lines from Starbucks:

Power lines and poetics,
portables and pathetics.
Love and round tables,
luggage and brown stables.
Daisies and good times,
deer and pantomimes.
Paper napkins and spoons,
petals and blue moons.
Confetti and breaking waves,
cries and silent graves.
Romance and Fall classes,
red and sunglasses.
Wood and makeshift stories,
wonderings and false glories.