Tuesday, September 11, 2012

You and me

Of my loneliness you knew nothing.
Would you come if I called you?
About you I knew little. We never
talked about love, how could we? I
wrote to you and you answered me.
It kept me busy. Still I couldn’t find,
buried between the lines of your
phrases,  the confession of  your love.
Was I expecting too much?  I guess. 

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