With Love

With Love

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Indiscretion

I am not the specimen suggested by my curves or skin.
I am river, clasped down by your banks.

I gush over cliffs, among silent waters, naked and cold.
I ruffle on the corners of boulders and split around islands-
Once at the middle and twice at the end.

I am chopped, like the air around your tongue, your switch.
Pouring onto deaf ears. I will run forever. Until you drink me up.

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