Sunday, December 14, 2014

The Way of it

I can't fit you into my scheme of things  

nor you me,

now that we've finally become ourselves.

I turn on you, sharper than a scalpel,

spit words chiseled to wound.

Out from beneath the quilt of affection:

our naked selves so vicious,

we bruise each other with the same fervour

that once marked our love.

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