December 2010
2 posts
11 tags
kill it with Wine
In a year or two you’ll forget why you ever loved them.
In the mean time, it might hurt like Hell if it just happened.
It might well up from time to time.
You’ll look back at old pictures
and wonder why you were ever drawn to that person.
You’ll have to remember
your pictures only show a shell.
You’re the only person attaching meaning
to the memory.
Your chest...
[.:.:.]
I’ll just lie on the tile floor,
in the sun,
speaking in foreign tongues.
And then sleep will find me.