Thursday, March 18, 2010

poem

and the day is dimming down,
the unshieled night.
lay low, for the moon is a torment of light.
faces,
shapes and shadows.
puncture holes,
bleeding soul.
running,
waiting.
breath in a chase.
the mind is louder here than the music sung.
always a new smile.
collages of lips hung,
against bare skin and cheeks.

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