Monday, January 28, 2013

Not a goodbye yet

Blow away you say?

Blow away all preciousness

Blow away everything

that truly matters to this heart?

Poked, probed, pricked, pinned

Broken, tattered, worn thin,

Whatever its state or shape,

It is an object of my love.

How can I wish away

the fire to my cold,

the rain to my drought

the rhythm to my heart?

The waiting never ceased

The wanting never ceased

I may have turned my face away

But I never stopped loving

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