'All pasts are like poems; one can derive a thousand things, but not live in them' John Fowles

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Today it disappeared

On 21:23 it disappeared with
the press of my thumb
and the heaviness of my heart
Into the realm of nothingness
togther with the
longings and pinnings
Today it disappeared


posted by skylark at 9:24 PM

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