love, as I swallow, you are the lump in my throat
and though sick, the cigarette, that I still smoke
left in a grey cloud of nicotine I persistently choke
all behaviour I know to you and this history cloak
you're the same's the coffee I buy when so broke
love, this fire's embers of questions of why stoke
Monday, April 13, 2009
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other people waiting
we're not strangers anymore
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