Saturday, March 11, 2006

Fret

When the last star has set, and love is remembered as regrets:
There is nothing left to get and the air smells of cigarettes
And corroded dreams and sweat and the things you aid and abet.

I remember when we met, the way the sun caught your silhouette:
And ever since I've been in debt to you; alone I sang our duet
And felt better and yet I feel there's something that I forget.

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