Sunday 25 March 2012

Cycles

Cycles


the wheel was invented so
we could keep coming back here

day turns to night and
that sweat isn't mine again

something in your face
pushes me back like a tide

a beach full of eyelashes

i'm running, collecting them
but only when the water is low
and i can't see your eyes
nor you mine

because then we wouldn't want to hold hands anymore
and all of the pebbles on the beach would turn to sand.





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