December 2010
4 posts
reaction to the snow:
snm.
oh look, a poem
i rouse with the ghost of your lips
against my deadened skin and
the bitter memory of your hand
intertwined with mine. on a damp fateful night
you saunter away from my tear stained visage,
leaving me with nothing more than the haunting
of your translucent face and sunken eyes.
each fine strand used to restore this heart
is surely breaking under the strain of
this intangible silence. and...
i make that pimms o'clock, don't you?
i guess this is what happens when it’s 2am and there’s nothing to do.