Monday, November 23, 2009

The Desert.

I would enjoy the desert.
The desert would be nice.
In the desert, cold can't hurt;
only at night.

In the desert, I'd be alone,
without a map, without a phone,
but the desert would be nice,
because of the warmth that sets it's price.

In the desert, there would be sorrow,
there would be loneliness,
but there would be a certain homeliness
promised by tomorrow.

I am alone,
all by myself,
braving the unknown,
in very bad health.

I have grown old,
she has grown cold,
If only I had been told,
Our love would not have been sold.

She kept me warm,
she set the norm,
She was the light,
on my blackest nights.

Now we have to forget,
the memories,
all we've made,
together.

She's moved on,
but not I.
I have a little while longer
before I move to the desert.
The place of warmth.
The only place where loneliness and happiness
coexist.


"I love her so,
I can't let her go.
I looove you,
OOH, baby I love you!"

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