Monday, March 30, 2009

Untitled

I talked to her after an eon,
Over the phone,
And her voice sounded shaky, charged.

The miles separated us,
Her beauty rode on sound waves.

She is a romantic,
Blessed, sensitive.

There are wrinkles below my eyes,
With her name underneath.

I absorbed her problems,
And my heart pumped harder,
With the added weight.


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