  wrote this poem a long time back.. hmm not so long. thought i could keep it here (for lack of better content?! ) .. pretty pathetic: roses for the dead regrets for the living. you feel nought but avoid. on a day of no surprises you turn my life around.
roses for the dead... 'don't you think it is a little too windy? ' casaurinas sighing in the breeze like whispers from the past. a forbidden memory of salt spray on my lips insides burning with passion unspent; bottled up feelings make my hands tremble. gauche in front of you - almost forgotten - a stranger with a myriad secrets; magnetism that still holds our fingertips together? my hand throbs with pain as i wipe the memory off my brow. 
