Thursday, April 08, 2004

A Grimace at the Empty Wall

I am tired of not kissing you
I am tired of not reaching for your hand
I am tired of recollecting and bearing in mind

I am tired of the blot of darkness
I am tired of marking time
I am tired of watching my thoughts twist

Elizabethan courtiers, I'm sure
Held their graceful smiles and ready wit
Just as far as the turning of the corridor

And then stuck out their tongues and raged
And silently mocked the Queen
And grimaced at the empty wall.

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