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Saturday, February 14, 2009


I can somewhat recall his smile
while we sat by the fire,
and the warmth of his body next to mine.
The edges of his face
are beginning to become erased
by space and time.
It does not matter in the end,
since he wasn't as real as we are.
Dreams can only get us so far.

I had a dream that I fell in love with Death, and the more I loved him the more handsome he became to me (but he was only handsome to me- to everyone else he looked ugly).
He had a very nice house, and had a minivan.

1 comment:

alia said...

hm, minivan, you say?