(original written in 2006)
– the multiple interpretations of the title on its own gives me reason to write this.
For my love;
Oh how loved they were,
And so swiftly they were brushed away
You quickly left; with nothing but a cup
These past affairs and broken homes,
No one lives here, as we buried souls under our constructions;
You came and left; behind with a trail of lust;
In the middle of love, I read I brush through dust
Find your way through these glass laden streets; question words so well lacking definition.
Rebuild. Retry. Relive.
In the border of conciseness, we find placement to appear correct
We appear; correct.
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