Friday, 1 March 2013


The myriad markings run,
In colourful symphony,
Down lightly muscled arms,
And legs that once wrapped,
Around his in ecstasy,
As the ticking clock removes the years,
From timeless memories,
In her mind unfolding,
She stretches across the bed,
Kicking aside the dusty fears,
And reaches for the phone that never rings,
Licking scarlet lips,
That were once his to own,
Her voice that for those long nights,
Singing in the empty bar,
To no one but her own soul,
And the lonely passerby whose heart she plucks,
For a moment,
She reaches out with that husky voice,
That temporarily chased away the cold,
But never melts the ice in her own soul,
He will never pick up the call,
She is left again,
Counting the tattoos across her collarbones.

~Rei Shiori

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