...
you leave me.
I'm here you're there, too far to hear,
to hear your curls.
Nor your shoulder with freckles.
I suppose it's time. I never left.
Transparency was clouded.
Now such clutter surrounds what I think is empty
like seeing though ice,
light and darks
but no composition enough to recognize
when you left.
...
..
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment