A maze dark and winding,
Fingers feeling jet black green cold that is wet and alive.
Sprigs stab me in the back as I lean against the living wall.
Who am I hunting and what is chasing me?
It is the same dream with different lips.
Gently parted, soft is your breath and I wake to find frost clinging on my eyelashes.
The faster I run, the slower I go,
The lighter my heart, the heavier my steps.
Where are you my love?
Is there more pleasure in the torture of not knowing?
Is the pain as sweet as the longing?
A blindfold covers my heart and I swing in circles
With the concentration of resolution that I will strike and your heart will open
Like paper mache.
A maze, a wall, a blindfold and you always there
On the other side.
A maze, a wall, a blindfold and you never there
Though I cried
For you.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
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