for Ris
i don't know how you can brush the past away, but i hope one day you fly back to me


Buried

I talked to you last night,
After a three-week hiatus
Allegedly, though it felt like a hundred,
A drought in the rainforest.

Rarities are now hegemonies.

"A bit off-kilter", you said,
Like you were trying not to judge.

I know she's stolen the limelight.
Looks like she just killed my chances.
Are you sure the bottle isn't lying?
Suddenly I'm falling.

And then we entered,
We vilified the code,
Laughed like martyrs of old,
Forgot what had been.

I thought I could unburden
This off my weary soul,
Yet as I see your fingers crossed I know
This must remain underground.





Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 804 times
Written on 2006-08-27 at 04:44

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Zachary P. B.
all things seem to be locked in a tomb in our hearts... the dark and the tragic...

"a drought in the rainforest"

pray for rain hope for lightning and snow
it is majestic mystical magical even
and heals... oh yes it heals...

wonderful poem here, hope all goes well.

z
2006-08-27