Saturday, February 17, 2007

 

a Poem

I wrote a poem on February 12:

little red hands
chapped from windswept winter
guide ink along the page
as muse's thoughts unsplinter

little cold eyes
mask depth and love outpouring
stare down the forming void
and force the soul's undoing

little broken semblance
of what was once a heart
bleeds red and gives its life
as words are turned to art

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