Friday, June 16, 2006

Leggo (1)

Look at my hands. My upturned palms. Your presence
is just a mild ice-nip on my life line. Though I wish to fence
you in my boundaries I have done no such thing.
You stay just because I recklessly fling
my heart at your feet. When you leave, the emptiness
on my palms will burn right through my flesh like acid, no less.