Friday, June 24, 2011

I take
armfuls of butterfly memories to keep me warm,
but I fear: I cannot hold on
swallowtails, monarchs, birdwings:
a flood of colour fills the air
la fin n'a pas de fin
(the end has no end).

Farewell, the evening shadows are arriving -
you, you, you translucent, intangible,
I crave you, but -
the darkness
and ghosts
here, again.

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