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>> Saturday, June 25, 2011

i am a series of snap shots
in black and white
moving as drops of water move
in straight line
unmindful of irony

there is no betrayal in my eyes
i kill time with my hands
i am always the old me
my poetry is my story

you sleep to dream
but i do not speak riddles
you smell the roses
and head to the river
they are for dead flowers

i know now why you left...
i have no patience for deep words



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