Monday, October 17, 2005
To a hundred graves and back
I look at this smile
this weathered
broken down
smile
and I think of how much of it
has been left behind through the years
and how you're still nursing it
in silent and tender toil
and I wish
there was more of it for you
but sorrow
sorrow
like an old whore
keeps luring it back
her bony hands
stroking its hair
and glowing
soaked in its dusty remains
while she sings deatlhy lullabies
of a love that bears no promises
I hum these songs myself
and somehow
I look at this smile
and I wish
there was more of it for you
Into starlight.
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