Sunday, 29 April 2012

fire pail

Whispering regrets into her ipodded ear
I turn and turn once more wishing
We had more time to spend together
Parsing each other's body in sweet conjunction
I am become a mere pronoun and she
Is accusative;
This is how it always ends
In a sad scrabble of unanswered calls
And cancellations
We can still be fiends ?

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