While for me, I never expected it
When we met- a wasted sacrifice
But for me - wait quick, dumb and death
I write - look the absence of spring, summer, fall and winter
I be- the odor of some dying duck
You are the but the spit in my wind
I breathe - when you die
I love when you cry – the dying knife I use to kill a rose
When you breathe I only hear - the dumbing of your plight
So sweet, so sweet and ill!
Copyrighted 2009
