The versaitility of an open mind,
the instability of being left behind,
Those late night talks in search of love,
those daily reminders that words aren't enough.
A broken wrist, an outstretched palm,
a constant storm, the prevailing calm.
The blood on my hands, the still in your eyes.
My hands squezzed tight as a part of me dies.
Saturday, 23 January 2010
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