Sunday, September 2, 2007

puddled glass

To be in love corrupts what untouched skin was born/
Dust forming on us covers up what hidden sin did scorn/
Sun pores before my form
Ashamed
A slave to touch/
Succumb to just one stare
Air shared
Your hair’s smooth brush/
Too rushed to soak the broken water’s puddled glass/
The humbled chats we trade become a muddled mass/
Befuddled less than sand when focused through your lens/
Unbent
You shunned your kin to measure poorer men/
Deformed within
I’ve hemmed this hinge less fence of tin/
Weighing in the list of past mishaps that caved me in/
Shave me
Rip what limbs I own that blush your cheek/
Your words beseeched upon my chest give breath to seek/
In need of just your smell
In absence deem me moot/
Like oleanders planted where the soul seeks fruit/
Remove the root of scum that plucks your hand from mine/
If nothing's left then nothing's what I want in life

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