Thursday, April 26, 2012

Lost for Words

This pleasant ambivalence
Will not sustain.
Of halfhearted inquiries
and shallow refrain.

We or us exist
Only with disdain.
revolving in fortnights
pinned by a silly game.

That is mine
fly wide on our own.
We've had enough
hands bit to bone.

No broken heart memory
binds me to your throne!

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