saTur.day - jaN.uary 31st, 1987

The fear,

pain

The wet,

cold

I love,

die

To hold,

gone

The feeling,

lasting.

The loving,

repels

A honeymoon,

crying

A ditch,

my ditch

my lost

anguish...

enough,

inside.

A tear of warmth,

a myth;

happiness

death grip.

my vise.

My pain

my curtain...

drawn.

I seclude:

you

me

the three

a past well noted

ingrained

through me.

I seal

and do not

commission.

 

...back...