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Nick Welch Poems
What if love is finite. Could you wake one day And find it gone. Exhausted,
The Things You Left Me
These are the things you left me. The click of your heels. The smell of your hair. The taste of your lips.
He's old now, forgotten. A distant memory in an age that doesn't care. He sees the world through one glass eye That hangs too loosely by a single thread.
I Don't Love You
How casual you have been Unwinding like a thread Our life. Then in four simple words
She smiles, then coyly frowning pouts denials, licks her lips too slowly
Comments about Nick Welch
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
What if love is finite.
Could you wake one day
And find it gone.
If love is that ephemeral
What hope is there?
What certainty or assurity
Can we rely on.
The futures that we build
Are built of dreams.
Born of hope in desperation.