Feb. 28th, 2006

crows: (Default)
The path is frozen:
A ribbon of brittle time
Spools from my city,
Into yours; dodges starlight.

I have loved you,
Hated you,
Believe you me. We met
Over a [field] of murder
On the edge of a straight blade.

I wonder every day,
Even now. For what mistake
We are paying.
The reflections in my gazing bowl
Offer me no nepenthe. But...
When my conviction falters,
Yours is still there
To catch it.

[For F.]

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