"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Monday, September 6, 2010

A Memory.

In the dank hours
of night,
I wake to your breath,
hot, heavy,
full of memory
upon my cheek.
My body breaks
into bitter cold sweat.
And I'm thrown,
arm spinning,
windmilling,
into my dark
remembrance.

- - -

I really should be worrying about getting homework done, starting my portfolio, filling out my application to get into university, but all I can do right now is enjoy life and write. :)

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"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."