I am searching for story
I left somewhere
under a granite paper-weight.
I wonder where when I forget to dance,
to close my eyes?
Dreaming unemployed Jacobites spread technicolour,
as if I could forget you
as if I could leave you in the past
when how many showers I take I could not wash you a way
your imprint on me. How could I forget you my Jacs?
As a original as a unfinished story, you left your fingerprint on me
it seeks form, but floats off like a feather
lands later, too late for a lover
and for dancing under the moon.
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