Thursday, October 9, 2008

Rough Drafts Of The Guilt In My Heart

I feel as though I am always leaving
you in these mornings of your please stay mommy sadness
where you stand, your small hand against the glass fogging
to catch my fleeting silhouette

You will call for me in the cold dark
Your voice an exodus of warm blankets
I will follow
to lay down wordless beside you
and atone

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