Dec 30, 2004 20:04
Seven hundred cigarette buts on my window sill,
Ash in the wind,
Along with the fragments of my shattered little soul,
Warm and bitter on my lips,
Lined with the taste of you
So long I have sat alone,
Singing to the stars
Staring at the fading fairy lights
Listening for the wind
As it whistles through the fingers of the trees,
Stinging on my drying eyes
This is a wish that will not last