Friday, December 24, 2010

so is she

And we still decorate clocks,
we grow up inside them
like they wash blackness or even sun away.
while the surface of my thirteen steps is melting
i see your eyes undercovered,
we're so afraid of being caught in sleep
but we still set the same alarms
the same times
the same crossed-fingers
the same bed
we all share the same shame.
So we came into fire tonight
to watch water come back again, rushing.
but it never feels the same
composing a sound so blue.

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