Sunday, February 16, 2014

saturday leftovers (2-16-14)

rumpled sheets and dented pillows
the air is still and close
breathed and re-breathed for hours
the air is still and close

looking across the table at each other 
a thousand miles span the gap
a few haphazard halfhearted words
a thousand miles span the gap

the promises of Friday have gone
what's left is stale
how has it already been a year?
what's left is stale

those blue eyes so familiar 
no one else can be who you are
the dis       connect a glaring gaping thing
no one else can be who you are 

the air is still and close
a thousand miles span the gap
what's left is stale
no one else can be who you are.


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