Nicola-Isobel H · May 3, 2012
Suicide Mission

The words evaporate
into an sunken exhale;
there is no phrase,
no uttering, that could bring
consolation.

The cars drive past my eyes,
I could run
                       between them
                                                   and
stop.

You're fading faster
than the light in the sky.

©Nicola-Isobel H.          03.05.2012
 
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