March 28, 2011
Ashes of yesterday's red wine
rimmed lips linger on a
humid breeze.
You twist on the tip of my tongue
like tiny tears tearing from
tall trees that billow as you and I
sway like darkness that
is blinded by the intellect
and art of the moon.
I am partially doomed to be
a part of your tomb,
but only when black water seeps in
to caress your dead skin,
remove cell from cell
and leave us nothing; shining.
I am a ponderer, but in this candle-lit corner
we are confined to shadowed thoughts.
I felt your reflection in the bowels of my heart.

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