Uneven Love
I wept
tears of dread
and thus swept
my heart slowly bled
the crimson pattern:
a trail, running
an earthen urn
of dead consumed, burning
life, the meandering
river cut short
inflammed, winding
back to port
and bursts
fragments of starlight
the epiphany hurts
descends darkest night
then clear, see now
my kindled passion
and saw how
it fizzled, fireless destruction.
Friday, January 26, 2007
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