Thursday, 26 August 2010

the prism

And when the world starts to fade
and the fiery reds burn to ash
and you can't see the colours anymore

That it's not the world that's fading
but you that's standing in the light.

Friday, 13 August 2010

if left unread, this ink will fade

and all she was now
(all she'd ever been)
was a line
in a story
on a page
of a book
on a shelf
in a room
that was locked.

and he knew he'd never have the key.

Friday, 6 August 2010

stage one: denial

Inside of my head, we talk for hours.
All day, and well into the night.
Converse about everything and nothing, stupid non-events, stupider co-workers.
Whisper the dreams we're still scared to believe in.
And we laugh.
So much laughter.

It's just so easy, you know, because that's how it always was.
We never ran out of things to say.
So we just keep sharing.
The connection's still so strong.
Inside of my head.

Of course, every morning I wake up.
And you didn't call.
And you don't miss me.

But we'll talk about that soon, I know.
Inside of my head.