Friday, March 14, 2008


The way you remember it, never actually happened.
the traces left behind, the emptiness you feel just looking back at it,
is not really there.
Shadow of a person you thought you saw once
so fragile and black, maybe carefully getting closer,
maybe touching the surface with cold fingers
maybe poking too far
for there was a sensation you never knew existed
maybe an old cliche!
for good or bad, it disappeared, gone... fucked.
so you touched your skin all over, searching urgently for the left marks of his fingers
the shadow's.
dried skin untouched
logic deceived
It never happened.
The shadow might have been a real shadow
a tree perhaps,
just standing there in the far distance
You've been denied by only a shadow of something unknown.
In a half lit world, weary and sore
frightened to see
the truth from fiction.