Created
May 15, 2016 19:23
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you, one who sighs and yawns crawls and nips | |
fallen from emptiness and all seamless words between. | |
what name have you given me in secret? what name | |
did i never call you by? | |
in my dream, you left me scraps of paper to read by moonlight, | |
written with the names of colors: | |
green- tired eyes. damp with dew at morning; | |
warm blanket inside cold- that is night. | |
and darkest blue | |
dimming downwards towards black- your name for night. and | |
my crimson- blood i collect in a paper bag heavy in its holding | |
that rips and spills pouring out into your scattered notes. | |
the pulp of each paper creeping from white, to red, | |
to red, growing to a stem, then a flower, blooms | |
in the color still written on its face. | |
i collected this bouquet in my hands the smell of lilac | |
and placed it at your feet. you began to cry | |
and my world fell away. your tears turned to cold rain | |
in a field of grey flowers. and as each was struck by water | |
they shriveled back to soaked paper now holding each, a single name | |
written in a language i could not read. | |
you took my arm and led me among them, now gravestones. | |
and as you pointed to each, you whispered a name of an ancestor | |
and a story for each | |
and as we came to the last stone, we stopped to see instead | |
a living child fresh in blood staring about | |
with new, wet eyes. and you picked it up and held it to you, | |
your secret | |
$Id: secret.txt,v 1.4 2003/08/23 11:24:39 pitivis Exp $ |
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