Thursday, February 24, 2011

The wind

The air I have breathed out has been taken someplace north easterly,

carried along by the wind.

Someone I may never know breathes me in, as I breath in another.

Perhaps I inhale a friend or enemy.

Perhaps I inhale a past love, or someone new who returns not my love.

How strange that tomorrow we will act as if nothing has happened,

after such intimacy.

I will go on being ignored by him,

and cursing at them,

for they are still my enemy and you still refuse me your love.
matthew schiavello  2011

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