Saturday, March 18, 2006

After she left.


I stand under the streetlight,
and the night washes its hangover,
in the calm that precedes the rain tonight
just to get drunk in the drizzle again.

I realise from lower down
under the streetlights
that this time too
i have to wait
for the rains to wash away my tears.

5 comments:

Solan said...

aaaaaaaawwwwwwwwww!

not alone,
she waits
with so many with her
and the rememberances
carries her with the smell
that momemtarily rises
only to paint
the nostalgic nights
where bodies
forego the boundaries
and what remains
are drops of rain
on
the mud floor

uglygirl said...

wow!

serendipiduous said...

was gonna post something which had pretensions of being a poem ...will of course not now

Solan said...

hey come on

mizfit said...

it's amazing how pain creates the best poets out of people...i've written a few already...but seems to personal to share over the blog. people will see how easily i hurt and how much a person could mean to me...they wouldn't believe it cause almost nobody bleeds as deep as me.