(no subject)
Written Monday, March 06, 2006
9:07
Approximately at 9:07 pm, she was sold
A necklace with rhinestones, no diamonds.
Too small.
Artificial itching chokes every living bloody
Cell. Asphyxiating every sparkling orb -
The beautiful, fonding jokes, the high times, the “life”, until
A cycling love comes again.
She is:
A necklace, heartache, headache.
She was so oblivious to a crippling mistake.
She is:
A volcano painted shut.
Water colors slowly bleeding on wrinkled paper.
Finding its way into every crease
Bleeding the secret ink;
Unremorsefully,
Changing value,
And into the blue lined corner where a thump
Of her chest hides.
Waiting until “love comes again”?