Wednesday, April 7, 2010

You're the magic that holds the sky from the ground.

She ambled about the gravely grounds
Cigarette in hands
Hands in hair
Hair on fire, eyes on fire, life on fire for all I know, young miss.
You had a vein about you
In a way
Where you seemed to walk with someone,
yet next to you was only the Springwarmair.
That's all.
Perhaps a stroll with a cigarette is doing you good?
And the words fly off your lips,
The smoke does not choke for once,
I don't understand
Why you walk alone yet together
And you're alone yet
Give off the aire of being... unalone?
Just not lonely.

Just not alone.

(That was horrible.)

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