Wednesday, July 7, 2010

a note

spilled letters on your concrete balcony
on the 6th floor
with a light bulb sputtering above my head
streets shimmering with shadows
the road coming to an abrupt end
i scattered my words to share a self, a self self-moulded.
i contemplated brevity, honesty, solitude and love
my mind-- always a sinking ship--
i barely remember the colour of your eyes
whose obsession was of death
who won the war and
who wore a straitjacket
above all
I’m need of a response

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