Monday, 6 June 2011

The Remains Of Summer.

Lying in a bed of deceit
guilt takes a ringside seat
our hearts complete and sublime
making up for lost time

An Indian summer comes to an end
the man on the street can't comprehend
my despondency
the look of vacancy
on passer bys
I'm devoid, been cast aside

Feels like summer was a masquerade
I reside in cimmerian shade
one day I'll concede
and finally see,
we just weren't meant to be.....

 










2011 © LH


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