Where you walk I follow a few steps behind,
tripping over your silence as you absorb
scenes of solitude in your pulp of a heart,
allowing the wind to pick up your sorrow
to faraway places, never settling.
So I wait, hoping to watch you grow wings
of angel, and just before taking off and stripping
your mortal's skin for a halo in ascension,
I need to learn what makes you tear so coldly
even as you last laid in my arms.
Edited on 8 Jan 2010.
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