Saturday, September 7, 2013

UnDiminished Memories of Recklessness In Disguise

It is the intensity
that scorches the heart
Artist Daniel Johnson
(not sorrow)
And pitch which measures our pain
alas, quite without the intention
through devotion
we fucked (over)
each other again
It was not the love
that was wrong,
but the need 
was not right
as we danced
to a discordant melody
our dance steps cloaked
and abject fears of flight
while the lover's
embrace disimulated
a fairy tale frivolity
of purest delight

Claustrophobia was
our sanctuary
memory begets
only tears
for secrets
in spite of the years

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