Emptiness that starts a fire
blazing in a cold icy cube
of doubt.
Glasses empty, hope still hoping
for a chance to break the ice.
Never closer to an end,
fire still
though weakened by the glare
of the faraway charade you hold too close to bare.
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Hierdie skrywe was gepos op Oktober 6, 2011 teen 7:54 nm en geliasseer onder 39319 with tags doubt, love, poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed
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