Sunday, December 5, 2010

Again

When it comes
to baring oneself,
there are always

plenty of
words, no
guarantees.One
always loves

more than
the other.
The high, then
the sinking

Feeling
in the pit of
your tummy.

Every thing becomes
nothing. Words are
sludge on a wall of

old vines that pierce
and twist into
the heart time
and time
again.

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