smell of cheap wine
floats beneath my nostrils
it's only fitting i say
only fitting
damp palms pressed on dry wood
and as i breathe a light sigh
the things we love fade away
they drop to earth or just drift upwards you see
even elephants will turn to specks
a ships mast will disappear over the horizon
until it's a phone call away
a million miles away
i will breathe your fur
the smell of woods and home and a warm burning fire
i'll let this go until there is nothing left
nothing left of you or me or anyone
i'll bend your ear til it breaks
i'll laugh loudly, surrounded by people i hate
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
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