Tuesday, August 24, 2004

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.

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