Sunday, 5 October 2008

The Rambler

Anti social
You’re soaked with touch.
I think I’ve had too much here,
Bodies glide in a silent room,
Silhouettes wait for midnight,
Some for the after noon

And who’s seen you?
You who were born in the rain
I remember everything
The swell and the shade
Of your dress
You tears and shouts
In darkness

I don’t want forgiveness or sympathy, for I am not sorry for anything. And maybe I am scared because, I think it would have been easier to, converse if your face was cloaked by hair, but know for sure that I was always willing to try. And in a room full of strangers I will never act my age (for what is my age?), maybe just maybe you’ll see that the only thing that scares you the most is what you have inside. It may come true like something that lasts.

And maybe you will change you mind
Maybe everything will be okay
After tonight.

1 comment:

faran said...

you manage to sound whitmanian now and again!