Monday 17 March 2014

Untitled


Tiptoeing away from me,
silently
without tears
without laughter
just the pale face
golden sunken eyes



A blue glass dome,
far away
the moon
stirs
The dust of silence


Once
Only once,
I wish you would wake up
To see what happens...
In the nights of separation
What happens...
in the night of mourning..

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