The corners of my vision
Crusted with the night
I met the day with dark words.
A flame extinguished
With his own breath
Fall to the floor, drop the phone
Bereft (a small heap of flesh)
A tone.
And then you were back.
How does one rise from the dead
With such ease
Not knowing how close they were?
I existed without you for half an hour.
Now I won’t again.
Monday, June 04, 2007
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