Stone smooth and exiting,
though ragged scraps of longing slide,
across the floor in fits and lines.
Seems only the walls and doorway smooth out
in strength and knowing. This time.
A corner of silence attempting, so,
skipping through the liquid of inside delights,
Somehow, despite the fear tainting.
I'll continue to dance, wasted on a mean tug of seeing.
And although I remember yesterday
like the crust of a severed vein, weeks old -
dry - suffocating almost, but healing,
Saturday will still have enough heat to surround a wonder,
and a heart half flickered and light.
And so there is patience in waiting,
for answers to stain, I know,
seal strength in satin and dry,...
top coat and gleaming, yes.
[This message has been edited by SpitFire (03-02-2002 08:17 PM).]