twisted between
the layers (like skin,
so warm to the touch of a stranger)
of words unspoken
and sights unseen,
i thought i heard you sing
to me,
once.
and walking down red paths,
in cities we've never seen,
marvelling at sights that no-one else knows exist,
i spoke,
to you,
once.
and that,
that is all that matters.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
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