Saturday, 23 February 2008

Still


Forgotten Sundays
When we lost everything.
Watched the flame rise,
And killed a cigarette.

Future
Like the given curse.
All tied up to play your part.
Don’t move.
It is done.

Hope recedes.
Rainwater.
Promises.
When I said,
I would let silence speak to you.
You say it best when your lips don’t move.

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