there is a fountain of blood
coming out of my lips,
behind the blue of these eyes
is the ice that the winter permits...
behind the words on my tongue
is a dagger that slits
and carves up our lives
with a flick of my wrist.
i have cut out my own heart
to preserve wedded bliss
or at least the iron taste
on the tip of my kiss.

01/21/2009

Posted on 01/21/2009
Copyright © 2026 Vikki Owens