A look like broken glass
to bend this light into a burning point
you focus on my silouhette
my wispy silhouette.

I'm all but gone
so hold on to this scent of burnt up matches
soon they'll disappear
the way the wind flies swiftly through the open windows
whenever you're not there.

And when the petals from your old bouquet
don't blush quite like they used to do
I'll still pluck them one by one
and drop them 'til I'm holding grass again.

You're never there.
The way the ghosts forget my name.
You're never there.
But I'm still holding on the same.

You're never there.
You were never there.

You're never ever there.

01/13/2004

Author's Note: I think I'm going to use this one for a project we have to do for english... We get to make a 3D representation of a poem we write. I might choose other ones of mine though.

Posted on 01/13/2004
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