Jun 13, 2010 17:43
Remind me of
The last time
We were looking for something.
It was called love
And back then
We believed in it.
Now we search with eyes open
Amongst the dry felt-tips and cracks
In many ceilings.
We pause upon the emergence
Of a spider
Or a photograph.
But we continue
Although one day
We will not believe in this, either.
utter garbage,
poetry
Leave a comment
Comments 1
Reply
Leave a comment