Memories of intimacy
dance like wayward shadows
on my wall.
The light chases them
across the room
to a darkened door
where they disappear,
phantoms of desire.
dance like wayward shadows
on my wall.
The light chases them
across the room
to a darkened door
where they disappear,
phantoms of desire.
posted by Sridhar at 2:37 am
1 Comments:
our histories wind spider threads around us,
binding, blinding us to the here and now
sometimes a voice reaches back, a scent traps us
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