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By twinkle Date: 2002 Oct 08 Comment on this Work [[2002.10.08.15.03.17164]] |
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i cannot return to you, buried in the hills. your autumn holds the dusk in colors, breathing out the hours- the wind of an long unfolding winter (once sweet fire upon my cheeks) fast fading you know me. who i was is written on your soil and in the old november months; i am shattered in your backroads broken in your arms in nothing and everything you so vibrant reappear- your dropping years fall in the small things i have forgotten so easily; and in the coolness i have my secret pains- the races were quick and cold and lovely the nights burned away by the fire, and i was comforted even in the rain old loves and lost loves deeper sadness and quiet terrible hours leave me be, sixteen. |