too old,
like unread books
with yellowed pages.
and
too cold,
like hailstorms
in april.
we don't
look.
we don't
see.
avoiding,
silent and
waiting.
we are
too scared
to know,
to ask,
too scarred
to have
and to lose.
maybe we're just
too old,
still infants,
two decades
past expiration.
No comments:
Post a Comment