Sunday, August 7, 2011


I draw on the canvas a form indistinct
The rains lash across; A blur remains

Your tears were your own to cry
No one, you said, had the right to pry
Was I wrong not to wipe them all off?
Was I wrong not to give myself away?

You said you found peace in the darkness
How could I then take you to the light?
Was I wrong to watch you, helpless?
Was I wrong because I was right?

There was & is only nothingness, you say
But that was choice, and also was fate
A cruel pair that held us in its sway
Why does hope now make you shy away?

I stand inert, the blankness is the same
How blurred my canvas, how empty my frame...

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