December 26, 2010

is it your heart speaking
or your fear
of this mirror.

in tongues.

it is a death
that follows me through the city
the dark depth of wind
whipping garbage up my skirts.
around the corner they fly
like snow
and memory.
and handsome
and nothing to me.
for i am lost without you.
you whose touch is a feast
even being a stranger.
and loveless.

i weep.

perhaps i am the fool
but i stay open and steady
to what i believe
until it leaves...


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