"ink is no more permanent than blood
my darling"

a tiny dot of insignifigance flowing onto an endless canvas
with precision and grace

such a fragile vessel
enabling fear of the inevitable

for all blood stops flowing
and words can be destroyed

but while hearts are beating
and passions flow
shouldn't we pen the novel?

08/18/2009

Author's Note: thanks to aaron michael for the topic

Posted on 08/18/2009
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