5.17.2009

windows/balcony.

spring happened:
much like your touch
left me
feeling empty, always.
left my gray limbs,
left my phantom friend,
folded on the floor.
a pile, a pile -
of stitches to your throat.
you are the voice box from my home.
cornered on the couch:
(yes) i tried to kiss the truth
right from your lips. savor each lie.


(one strike, one miss)

we are aging,
graceless.

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