Critical Analysis #2 |
faded postmark |
mysticpoe Senior Member
since 2003-02-28
Posts 883 |
Now, my life is like a faded postmark, left at the bottom of this paper shoebox. Waiting, for the time when you will read again. Hoping, the flames don’t catch me first. As I wander with hope and isolation, believing that my past now lacks. The memory of breathe- do they think of me as the prayers lessen in strength. How can their thoughts now permeate that which separates us? I’m now blind as I drift from that place we could feel as one. When the multitude of substance was aloft in their dreams. How could I know as you watched my arms drift, still reaching from one million miles away. I can’t think anymore. If nothing is something |
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© Copyright 2004 mysticpoe - All Rights Reserved | |||
Not A Poet Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885Oklahoma, USA |
Duplicate removed. |
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