Scalloped edges flank the flow of blood as it insists ownership of the life I refused. Or upon debate was afraid to live.
Give me child. Bear me reason. In new life so is the old reborn. Inflate this empty balloon until it may rise. Gallop off into the sun. Forgetting itself in what sores evolved out of its skin.
Learning the sink. Every drop the faucet bleeds. As we wait for the water to warm.
Pale comparisons in metaphor. There was tomorrow once, but now there is only tonight. In her bright, red skin the demon arranges her claws. To keep count of all the happiness we have discarded.
If only we could blame her. Or anyone else.
If only I could find a sin to repent. I think I'd feel better. But there is nothing evil in what we've done.
Except what we've left behind.
Sunday
6/18/2006 12:06:00 AM
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