Tuesday, July 10, 2012

sonnet one hundred seventy nine

what do you do on dissipating
fridays? do you lull yourself
to sleep because of languor,
or do you wait for the gods

to leave a window open so
you can, once more, glance
at all that belongs to you?
do you mark the last few

days because you want
to remember the good times
in case we argue?

or do you hold my faith
fervently in your hands
and seek nothing else?

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