Sunday, September 2, 2007


she's raining away in empty rooms now

broken like bottles buried in the bottom of a dresser

safe from harm

safe from his eyes

an open window lures a dense humid cough of air

from another slice of sick summer afternoon

raised the red flags

for a coordinated attack on all those old love letters

something only an only child could understand

she should have thrown them away

when she heard that he had burned her verse

but they had a weird way of hanging on

like aurora borealis

clinging to the sky

paper angels fall around as a soundtrack to her sighs

to the faraway sounds of slow trains

ruined lives as the situation might imply

buried for so long

in the bottom of a dresser

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