Tuesday, 23 October 2012

You Will Forget Me



We lie in bed as individuals
And rise from the dead each morning.

Each time you will forget yourself
And then you will forget me.

Your days consist of obituary-searching and the BBC.
You come to a climax of work shifts.

There is a sense of love somewhere
In the myriad of faces.

You drink tea in the afternoon. Eat nothing.
Your secrecy blinds me.

Guided only by a thought, you walk to the train.
Now you eat like a starved cat.

At home there is no one. I am not there.
Between your eyelashes; silence.

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