Saturday, 25 February 2012


I see you trying to recall,
but I always remember,
how time was on your side and
never bothered to point out mine.
The niche it abandoned me to carve
with nothing but my breath became
a world obese with silence,
gorged on emptiness.

When I am gone, or just
even less there than normal,
and all that I could have been
is yet even further reduced
to the touch of a shadow,
or the sound of light;
what breeze will walk you home,
what empty gesture say goodnight?

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