I still hear your voice
but it's just the old tapes
playing in my head
whispering sweet deceptions
I still see you in the mirror
but it's just my imagination
I found an old shirt of yours
packed away like my memories
I could still smell you
that cheap cologne you liked
and fine cigars
we were good once
loved unabashedly
played like adults
in this childish world
but you wanted something
I couldn't give you
and I wanted something
you didn't have
so ... as the fabric of our lives
are torn in two
we stand on unsteady ground
empty vessels
that only time can fill
GlassPoet © ~ 2000 ~
Webmistress and sole proprietor
J. A. Stroud a.k.a. GlassPoet.
Nothing on these pages may be used without
the express permission of the
author / webmistress
