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October 15, 2010
Cold, blank eyes.
They say the life goes out of a person's eyes,
when they don't know you anymore.


Her hands are cold,
mine are colder.
I wish her all my luck,
all my love,
please let it work out.


Are you here? Have I been surreptitiosly reading your inner thoughts, without realising the significance they hold for me?


Will it never end?
The endless awkwardness
between us, like
firework embers, drifting endlessly?
I promise never
to say
any of those things
that you are afraid of hearing.