orgami's Diaryland Diary

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darkness on the edge of Now

nothing left to say
the bridges have smouldered
we have come this way
so often

and Now you seem happier
with the ashes on your face
the tired remnant of snow
angel on your sleeves

happier with your cigarette
glowing you stand off
and I understand why your not
looking

Why even bother coming
we do this so often
Have each other right here
and then nothing
the whole anticlimactic
silence

perhaps its just in being
so quick in each others presence
only now your leaving

Well Good Luck with that

I fumble in my pants for the
one twenty dollar bill I was
saving for the Movie downtown
and slip it in the small
book of poetry I had been
stumbling on in a little
scholastic book from the dollar
store Its all bent and creased
from my pants pocket

I got caught in a rainstorm
and the cheaper inks have run
but the good pen is still
legible

like the dreams bleeding in
and out It was like our life
our skirmishs daily for the high
ground

and now here we are
poems and burnt out passages

time to go
and I watch you for the first
few steps and turn away

it looks like rain
and the streetlights have come
on

9:57 p.m. - 2010-08-16

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