Monday, August 29, 2005

the Forge.

With your gun held to my head
we'll walk toward the sun,
leaving all the past shadows in our wake
uncurling with the stormy seas.

This might leave a bruise at my temple,
but the flames want a dance, can we?
i made all the acknowledgments, but did you bother,
my dear,
turn around because you are being followed still.

Does this mean i have to be blown away prematurely?
My soul is already melting, lets watch it finish its walk,
don't force your abandonment issues down my throat
don't worry about my dryness
death will come soon enough for us both,
walking on the sun.


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