Wednesday 4/11/2007 12:35:00 AM

A little blush with her whisper. The perils of happiness at every station. A hint of candy cane in her grief. Sugar crutches propping up diabetic hearts. Together we dance. To the pulse of dead batteries. Dolls undressed. Left naked in the shadows of our children.

We are. Nightmare solved with insanity. We are. a series of characters. That possess so many different meanings depending on the language.

A little past eleven she kicked over the glass. Jump-starting a futile debate. Between weakness and strength. Because anyone who's ever been broken knows they are the same.

0 comments:


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.