Thursday, December 16, 2010

Death of the Inanimate

Your lips are the wet of my blood. Without them I bleed dust

Your voice, the rhythm of my heart. Without it my ventricles lay in silence

Your touch, the nerves of my fingertips. Without it I cannot feel

Your embrace, the light at my center. Without it I see only blackness

Come back to me soon and breathe life into this corpse for without you
there is nothing

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