Monday, 11 March 2013

I could write a never-ending novel
with the thoughts that I've knotted up
and placed in the deepest, dustiest corners of my mind.
And this is what happens:
I sit restlessly on a train
heading from one foreign place to another.
People coming, people going,
people laughing, people loving.
And all at once, I start to come undone.

It's been so long since I last heard your voice.

No comments:

Post a Comment