in this quiet spot i lost you
was it so long ago?
before the thawing of the muddy,
frozen, winter's snow?

tonight you sleep, but not with me
i share my bed with none.
i dream of his hand on your breast
and beg God for the sun

the silence mocks me tenderly,
"must you persist in crying?
it's your own fault for loving one
who confused life for dying."
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1