Sunday, 5 February 2012

can't you see shapes under our eyes,
black lines and angst and fitting seizing cries,
the tanlines that make you a cut out,
to pin up on my wall, the hash tag then a number,
the sweet release and all, crushing liberty,
I watch it writhe about a pin,
superfluous renditions between love and sin,
 tides turning in the breeze before returning to their fall.

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