Monday, June 18, 2012

Despair


do i lose my touch
when i close your book?  does it
skip the lipped words,
my tongue, unfit for longing? 

i went to find
your shadow without
knowing the bright, but
your shade is some dark hue in
night’s sight, pale

over the moon’s eye
a lidded whisper of
transpired brilliance


Or so I tell myself.
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