cold fingers and warm touches
the memory of a boy

the slate grey clouds softly speak your name
my eyes are closed, my face upturned... to feel the rain

your heart was once wired to mine
and i still hang on to the remnants of what used to be


that thursday still pulls at my heart
whenever i go down that street
                            your stare was so full of stars

i had a reason to pull you out into the night
and i tried
but it still couldn't be exactly as i planned



...those windmills blew my dreams away

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others