The Letters (Eileen Carney Hulme Poem)
I wonder if you keep the letters still, spidery and blotted now, like old days just withered away. I remember ...
I wonder if you keep the letters still, spidery and blotted now, like old days just withered away. I remember ...
I lean into you, we bury down in the dunes the breeze holds like a whisper you stroke my brown ...
We never really slept, just buried clocks in the sanctuary of night every time I moved you moved with me, ...
Like a deep blue wave of passion you shore into the room where I sit waiting quietly, open-booked. We have ...
The clock is silent nowadays clocks no longer need to make that rhythmic sound of life. We have moved on ...
No matter that my heart sinks, sighs, with the weight of skeletons- paths I forgot to follow have slowly sealed ...
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