Thursday 4 March 2010

To wishes

Smell of moonlight
And memories; streetlights
On endless distances.
Real colours and
Unreal thoughts
Blended and formed your picture.
Who are you, O mad lover,
That came in wisps of smoke?
Like scratches on
The fabric of the night,
You left scars.
One spoke of
Tragedies and mysteries,
All at once, like
Seaside stories of suicidal,
Unvisited beaches.
Oftentimes I believe
That it was real, true;
Like unfulfilled wishes…

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