The Contingency Plan

Monday, June 28, 2004

Call me

He was naked on the bed
And it was custom for him to lie there
Staring for moments beyond time
At his four walls covered without a crack
Every centimeter absolutely packed
With tiny scraps of paper
A colour montage
A canvas of names and numbers
Scribbled in hopeful handwriting
The expressions
Pregnant and overflowing with anticipation
Smelling of optimism
The perfume of desire
And in his loneliness
This was enough
posted by kazumi at 1:26 am

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