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Saturday, March 24, 2012

Desolation


The food has no taste
I sit alone: eating and hurting
They sit in another room: talking, eating, laughing
I sit alone: dejected
The food has no taste

The silence is agony
I lie alone: lachrymose, awake
They lie together
Though I can’t hear, I know what they do
The silence is agony

Her touch is ice
Her hand holds mine: cold and unconvincing
Where have you been?
She kisses my cheek; it hurts my skin
Her touch is ice.

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