Imperfect Souls
By birksy
He leaves her, taking flowers, taking himself, no words spoken, not even a solitary look, as the train stops at the station. Window down, door swung open, confident step onto concrete, eyes focused down, they hide their workings well. Then they fall, all those petals, and they blow in the chilled wind, no chance to catch them, all is lost. At last, they both look, with some guilt, with some feeling, their perfect plans, falling foul of imperfect souls. Written December 21st, 2001 © on Dec 27 2001 01:23 AM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 8
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"He leaves her, taking..."