those pure intentions
adjoined with the
loved emotion
the typed and fueled communication
burns the hole
disables intent

it doesnt mean I dont desire
i watch all things fall from the edges
there was a day a month a year
when things fit together
when the days were fine and bright
but today is a division
a slice in time and space
the seperation of two elysian bodies

when was the communcation sound?
the pointed fingers the blame
disolved emotional need
in the center is a throb
of gory vitality
comfort, silence
that sence of compassion
brings her up again
sets her back down

02/21/2005

Author's Note: an old poem, found it lying around thought it deserved a place here

Posted on 02/22/2005
Copyright © 2024 Travis G Finborg