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And when you recline into the yellow leaves, Lipstick-scrawled; those tired phrases I try to keep looking straight ahead Try to stop my jaw from clenching. I think its very sad you have to do that, But then I could ruffle through those memories The scribbles written out for ten years; My charms; and youd see them swept away Away and down some other street Where former lovers pass each other by. No one recognises the street, The name of the street is not important And the names of the lovers are all forgotten I write them down in my notebook And they seem like heirlooms of dead language Dead as that language you use Cold as the reply to a question, coldly rational Do you know I see the wall youve built, and Im not sure theres anything on the other side anymore I do think its true though, the wall's there |
Bitter and reserved and faintly forgiving. I really liked this. Especially the end, "Do you know I see the wall youve built, and Im not sure theres anything on the other side anymore I do think its true though, the wall's there" The high walls of a lonely kingdom, cannon blasted and lichen covered. Thanks for sharing, HH | Posted on 2017-07-19 00:00:00 | by endlessgame23 | [ Reply to This ] | |