Sunday, September 19, 2010

echoes


The racking sobs have gone, you know: 
but in their place a dull, slow ache
takes me unawares when 'ere you find a way to slip into my dreams
and say hello.


And though it seems that this, too,
is bound to fade,
I think instead it's bound to grow more potent with the years.


For tears are a function of sweat, and eye, and blood;
but the dull, slow ache of love issues from
the very pores of the air:
an echo of all the words
I didn't care enough to say...


and now my dreams still speak them, anyway.

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