Saturday, November 21, 2009

Gaze

The source of this cannot be found.
It goes back, before the shoreline.
It goes back, before the smoke.
It goes back, before the thoughts.

The apologies were not sincere.
They were ceramic.
They were manufactured.
Every word we said was pretty.
They were porcelain. They stung when they broke.

The prologue meant more to us.
The chapters get more and more boring.
The pages rip as we turn them.
The words, the ink, is nothing more
Than notes in some birds song.
We tried to gather an orchestra.

The thoughts in our heads,
Swim through hoops and tunnels
We used to think of each other as people. The time
Passed us, in the back of those yellow rooms.
The tones we used, showed not only
Love, but understanding. Our eyes met
Many times. Words weren't needed.


Just a gaze.

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