h1

.

May 17, 2009

.

You come

like

clockwork

a swiss train

so unlike

the rickety rickshaw

you are.

You come

bearing roses,

red,

thorny.

You whisper

sweet nothings

empty promises

of tomorrow-

as I bleed.

You and I know

the unspoken truth

We both know:

I can’t leave.

so I run my hand

over this battered body

and I

believe.

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3 comments

  1. beautifully provocative and thoughtful…


  2. thanks 🙂


  3. Wow, so true. We can’t leave, so what else is there to do?
    Hope sure can seem so cruel sometimes, but it can also be all we have.



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