Wednesday, February 29, 2012

sonnet seventy three

whether it be the
feel of fire or the touch
of rain, whether it be
the taste of poison or

the sound of nothingness,
i am wrapped in this
delirium of aching only
for you when the day passes

and i would not let
this heart come closer to isles
of loneliness found in this

space, until i stumble
upon the exact same
stares that allowed me to keep you.

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