Saturday, February 07, 2009
memories

they come at night
when all is still
when i'm all alone
thinking of you

the sense of loss
too hard to bear
lying on my bed
at the ceiling i stare

writhing, turning
forming this prose
they come steathily, silently
just like a ghost

in floods they come
too much to withstand
hourds and hourds
as i block with my hands

my eyes closed tight
hands as a shield
yet still they come
as i begin to yield

dampness between my fingers
though too proud to admit
now that ur gone
i'm no longer complete