leaving (Remove filter)
dust
dust
dust settles
dead skin
I trace my finger
through you
wishing you
were here
not gone
in a cloud
of dust
not spread
across my
furniture
like winterfall
and so
I don’t clean
I sit and stare
at the places
you have been
the places
where you
touched me
kissed me
before the rage
and arguments
...
Monday 23rd September 2013 11:17 pm
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