Friday, March 18, 2011

/the frenchhouse/

(day fifty-four)

Burt’s Bees bolsters bare
lips against the
cold winter winds
whilst we
cluster about counters
clutching coffee
to chase all of
our lonely
The evenings pass.
We fade.

There is little left of what was; and much promise of that to come.

-Viens avec moi?

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