Thursday, March 1, 2012

paper hearts

we fell like paper hearts
drifting in the wind, spit by mother
scorned by father
you fell on me, our paper skin accepting the feeble ridges of each other
unexpected, gray tore through blue
ripping through, silently
leaving our bodies soaked, stuck to one another
now wet paper, torn by time
frail and scarred, bloodless


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