Tuesday, 15 November 2011


There are no tears or songs,
Shades of blue and violet from the sky
Locks of your dark hair caught in the sun,
The emptiness of smoke escaping your lips,
Filling the void in between
But words that make this poem.
Words and distance.
Words and promises.
Words and silence.
When i rise no more,
From your eye or your storm.
From a dusty cupboard.
From a torn page.

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