Oh, What Can I Say, Question Mark
A lonely plane flies across this dark grey sky
engines lingering in my head
with the sound of falling leaves.
I've been here before, just before it rains.
I've crossed this threshold and I've written
this poem a thousand times
with the North wind hard against my face,
and the shades and nuances of the colours
of love drowning in the silence
between us.
All is mercurial, all breaks into polarity,
once your hands were magnets,
nothing can bring us together again.
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