She’s Gone
By birksy
She’s gone, And I’m empty, I read the calendar Though it fails to signify, And I stand alone In a corridor, Prison. My hands are telling me things, I can hear the whispers, The pleading in the whispers, I move to what they say. She’s gone, I have no more, Those around me sympathise, I nod and try to believe their words, What I’ll do, they'll say was for the best, He's gone to join his child. Written September 7th, 2001 © on Sep 07 2001 01:24 AM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 1
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"She’s gone,..."