Saturday, January 28, 2012

sonnet forty nine

as savage and wild as
one's absence, the wilting
flower bears a semblance
of peace, and we strive

to make it apparent despite
chaos, despite the havoc
of all this between us -
as you painstakingly

pointed out - we are
two opposing poles, molecules
that attract and negate

each other, charting long
lost destinations upon
each other's hands.

No comments:

Post a Comment