Sunday, 11 December 2011

winter worn

winter worn, deep in your head behind the tears in your eyes,
a holding gate, casting shadows on the dead,
 the sheets, the walls, our eyelids, are lined like paper,
guiding hands, landing strips, leading questions,
the sorrow of bland sanity has struck me to my bed,
remedy oh remedy, send sweet pilgrims to my soul,
please I need the charms of love to realign my head,
the time at least to understand the things you've said,
the last words, the first, all the lists of good and bad,
live wires now dead.

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