Friday, March 5, 2010

before the end was near

Given my youth
she became a religion.

An idol in the flesh
to worship and caress.

I became her penitent lover.

Willing to carve her name
in the palm of my hand.

She fed on my love,
but preferred the taste of my hate.

I fed on her lust,
but preferred the taste of her rejection.

We became drunk
on each others lies.

Now there's a stillness in those blue-greens
that makes her pupils look like
undiscovered islands.

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