Monday, May 9, 2011

FOUGHT PAIN

Throat closed
Eyes intersect
Mind bisects
All the while
She whispers,
"This is what you chose."

Heart, known to throb
More than just blood goes through her
She has felt all manner of cold chemical elements
Ions of a bonding, binding nature
Wrapped, warped around the muscle mass behind ribs
And all he'll whisper is.
"You wish it to hurt."

She forgot pain
Of that sort
And it was said that her heart was found
Buried in the sand
...floating out to sea
In hopes the salt would clean the wounds

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