Thursday, October 30, 2008

Old Notebook Pieces


She dreamt of colours.
Waking up in foreign sheets.
Gazing up at a canopy of stars.

She shows you how to move
In between the spaces.
The trees all bend their branches in.
Her lips have become
Too familiar.

You worry about the canopy falling;
Crushing you in.
You'll collide with the night sky.
Staying up all day,
Just to smudge the coordinates.

Under the pressure,
Her complexion is cracking.
And you worry.
You don't remember how to touch her
The way she taught you.
You can't find the spaces.

She is burning.
And the leaves have caught.
You wake up to repetition.
And find that she is gone.


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