Monday, December 28, 2009

Small mercies

Thus you curl up beside me in the dark -
Pressing your lips warmly against my ear, whispering inaudibly
that the words still stumble silently through my memory.
For your hair was scented softly with hyacinth and your touch like rain
that as your finger traced the outline of my heart
I never even heard you say
- Goodbye.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2009

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