Monday, April 5, 2010

My Heart . . .

Slowly dripping from my breast,
A red trail,
Drop by drop,
Leaving permanent scars on my soul.
What was i to know
That by such a young age
So much could taint
The flawless baby skin i used to have.
The wound opens and closes
As i let you in and you close me up.
It bleeds red, and orange, and purple, and blue,
For love, and passion, and trust, and sorrow,
Making it's emotions known,
With the words that it writes.

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