in a night
she lies to him
calls it truth
when she cuts pictures from reality
paisting them on her face
covering wounds carved in mute days
as the snow falls on the numbers of the street
he throws garbage across the silence
and they land quietly in the soft of the snow
were traces of angels caress the surface
in a night were she asks
can you take me higher
to where the trees can see
Poetry by kath
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Written on 2007-01-25 at 08:29
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