Sunday, 11 January 2015


I remember lots of things
How we first met, talked
Places and things shared

But in all these memories
Somehow you are missing
As if it was an imagination

A story without characters
Ghost town without people
A broken log floating a sea

Then what is there to hold
But a few material objects
To remind the forever lost

So I take these pages from
The tattered book of mind
Drop them to unconscious

The ocean with no bottom
A place too deep to fathom
Where the undead survive

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