August 28, 2010
The shame is transparent, the guilt not there.
Bittersweet love had always been a lie,
But an admission is something quite rare.
Thoughts of the mind were hidden to the eye.
Lives were unraveled; Tied knots came undone.
Sun could not break over the horizon.
The loom worked backwards, the thread was unspun.
Such a comatose state that she lies in.
That past time is more than a memory,
More than a nightmare that can be broken.
Intricate lies woven casually,
Hidden darkness with scars as the token.
Spreading dark, feathered wings to fly away,
Instead, caught in the ocean's sway.

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