Friday, April 2, 2010

The Library of You

Tags and rows
of numbered things
like the list my heart keeps
of your smiles.

The smell of dust and ash
an our ghost's slight of hand
to bring the book of us
crashing down
on linoleum tiles.

There are hushed words
among the categorized tomes
and not enough room
on the shelves
for even one more
happy thought.

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