Suit Jackets and Ripped Stockings

March 7, 2011
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I loosen this rope around my neck and we venture across the pale white beach.
Seashells whispering untold life as we shuffle past,
creating blurs of light reflecting off the rippling clear water.
Sun pushes the calm salty breeze against our backs as the leafs slowly rearrange on the wallowing trees.
Bare footed,
I venture into the icy waters while the strong current begins to pull me in.
You grab the chains as they tighten back around my vocal chords.
You drag me back to the dried cement and dust fan blown winds.
An abandoned interlude creates a coffin, and swallows me.
I can still feel the warm sun against my cracked skin.
My feet sink into sand.

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