I fall

ataxaphasic

numb.

Thin sheets of epithelium

slough off your skin

and in.

In time white lines go dry,

and shattered, I

survive-



derived

from circumstance, or passion;

had I had the chance

I might have rent this gash

to see,

rinsed red, thin apple skins

and in: the liquor of our sins

well up and over

weeping, leeching slow,

and spreading lips apart-



But there in sleep you seem so sweet

and weak, I dare not tear

your dark

your subtle

heart.

10/23/2007

Author's Note: Thanks to Kathleen Wilson for the topic "Your Subtle Heart." It was perfect.

Posted on 10/24/2007
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia