A desert of broken dreams,
dried and cracked, crunched
under foot as I walk, baked
under the heat of your gaze,
glazed like glass, sheened-shined
winking flirtation like refracted reflections
of what was once tears.
We lie in the night -
hard packed ground beneath,
soft painted clouds of sky above,
palms pressed as we hold hands
in a death grip, we two -
two eyes looking out at the world,
all seeing, blinded only to ourselves.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
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1 comment:
Wow, is that a little hot and cold thing going on?
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