Sunday, July 03, 2005
2 Become 1
Like the twin beds in Perth,
we do not make a double.
Pushed apart,
a chasm grows.
The early morning is full of poems.
Seventy-seven!
For all the times you have squeezed my heart,
making Optus richer.
I know he ain't no Darcy,
or Knightley,
or Gilbert Blythe.
But for a little while he was mine.
we do not make a double.
Pushed apart,
a chasm grows.
The early morning is full of poems.
Seventy-seven!
For all the times you have squeezed my heart,
making Optus richer.
I know he ain't no Darcy,
or Knightley,
or Gilbert Blythe.
But for a little while he was mine.
