Monday, May 16, 2011

filter pages of pain through my limpid fingers,
lilting tunes toss them far away,
words of hurt used shimmer on memory banks,
but now, like the receding tide
worlds merged and colours
pores of want and longing
You don’t exist in my dreams anymore;
You are here, as true as the thoughts in my head
are my own.

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You whisper your name... but i can't hear it.