for I remember naught(nothing)
of the truth
Your arrival here
has made me forget
all the gossip
What I had once
worn
is now
old and wrinkled
the place where I live/used to live
has become
unfamiliar
Live on in me,
though I have no future,
I have everything
but death
and that too
comes and goes
without capture
or conviction
and this is good
Your Beloved
No comments:
Post a Comment