Tuesday, 10 January 2012

You won't push me into this,
the holly dance, the unplanned drift,
won't guide me to your arm your hand,
I am clean like polished alloy, 
I am pure powder snow,
a fly by night a dainty, quite,
and yet i'll win, I'm sure tonight. 

I'll pause, refrain, consider,
each passing thought will linger,
until it forms a holding finger, 
and all is subdued, is muted not moved,
you won't push me into this,
i've danced around the precipice,
i've danced through licking fire,
i've burned my hands, my neck,
i've turned and I'm not turning back,
I'm frozen still in judgement,
i've peeled off from desire. 

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