Monday, 2 September 2013

An Ode To Your Disappearing Act

As subtle as your footsteps
Could possibly be,
Caressing the little fables
And the pretty lies--
You strolled in
With the confidence of a warrior
And the grace of a bride..
And as you drew the blade
Of that silver sword
Closer to my jugular,
All I could think of
Was that moment we shared,
That night, holding hands,
That bottle of liquid fizz,
And the sudden abandonment..
I'm used to evaporation,
So used to singularity,
And yet your blade
Managed to stab
A hidden sense of belief
And a silent prayer for company..

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