Poetry

At The Falls

31 May 2013

I fell for a friend at the falls.
The time knew, did not intend
didn’t mean a thing at all.

A matter of blood—physical.
Below the stream disorient
and fell on rocks at the falls.

In water resounding stories saw
Her ‘selfish lover’ in the air
doubt it didn’t mean a thing at all.

Grazed knees, broken head and more.
Carved names in stone while there
and fell for a friend at the falls.

Pulled me aside, grew dismal
“kill you” but “don’t care”.
I fell for a friend at the falls.

Didn’t mean a thing at all.


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