Tuesday, November 16, 2010

love not given lightly

It was love from
one who feared
carbon monoxide.



She liked the taste of blood on the blade.
Tattooing every obsession upon her canvas--
her page.

The tangible must be remade
It's likeness hidden,
destroyed, or rearranged.

Pure things are
what move through
grasping fingers.

What we chase

What we wish to possess

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