Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Remembrance

I watched her pick 
fragments, of once a vivacious
heart, solemnly, s l o w l y,
lifting a tear stained gaze
once in a while beckoning him, 
pehance waiting for 
these pieces to magically 
assemble in a dream.

"We'll always have Paris"
She consoles long solitary nights.

He wasn't meant to 
return, yet the letters never 
stopped, and now, all that
remains, is a wrinkled 
s      e 
 m i l

that often meets deep 
hollow eyes when memories 

T
 U 
  M
   B
    L 
      E
 
D
O
W
N



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