Your edge

12 09 2008

Your edge scares me;

when sharpened with anger,

how do things get so muddled,

we slice ourselves into the confusion.

The puppy needs food, water and shelter

a few jabs too,

what is the smile of its tail-

worth to you?

Your edge excites me;

when serrated with laughter.

spectator of your eyes, tell me your story?

You watch mine too, and say; sad.

They too have their own story.

I say; look, I am the moon

You say no, you see the sun.

I point to the stars, they light only in dark

See, there is no day without night.

It weakens me – the sound of my name,

a Van Gogh on your lips

there sits an echo – in my ear

and placed against me, the cool edge sharpened and serrated

profusely, I begin to bleed.





One response

16 10 2008

Wow. This is awesome stuff woman.

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