Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Stretching My Imagination

Stretching
My imagination,
Across your lashes,
Your eyes
A pond.
Perfection cries
Hollowness.
Our mistakes
Bind us.
These cold scars
Across our wrists,
Gripping
Ropes of steel.
Scales form
Across our chests,
Branding our skin
Unclean.
Scars don't wash
With soap,
They grow
Stretch,
Reminders of history
Otherwise lost
In fickle minds
Pushing away,
Anguish.
Decomposed words,
Forming a corpse,
Our poetry
An art
Impersonating
The private strain.
Between these lines
We draw
Our secrets,
Hidden from their gaze.
As they interpret them,
Call them pretty,
They'll never find
The truth.
Disfigured
Moments
Never form
A perfect circle.

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