Monday, August 2, 2010

if we can

The sink is turned on
to cover up
the sound of emotion spilling.

The windows are closed tight
to cover up
the smell of splendid isolation.

The room is filled with doubts.
Expectations.

Hanging over our heads
like thick, suffocating
winter clouds.

There are a million directions
but which one will take us
to the anywhere
away from
here.

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