Monday, November 17, 2008

last of the 6

What happened to the slight laughter unforced,
When you are gone for nights, what was unsaid?
The other love is blind for which we're coursed
Limelight hallways into which we are lead.
We breathe off balance, exhales out of sync
What has become of us, old tattered fool
Sheets cover your head, wait to even blink
Since when has our love turned into your tool?
Thread yourself with my yarn, we are woven
Unable to possess scent of morning.
You, your hyenas; intact as coven,
The tight hinge to prevent us from forming
May you remain as nimble as wet clay
Until they realize, send us both astray

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