Saturday, August 13, 2011

If I could.


"And of these cut-throat busted sunsets,
these cold and damp white mornings
I have grown weary
If through my cracked and dusted dime-store lips
I spoke these words out loud would no one hear me?"


Nothing I've ever experienced can compare to seeing the sunrise now in the mornings.
Not even sunsets. So, what does that say?