Blur
The shards of my life never
cut so deep, as when you're
holding them
An addict in disguise,
I beg to go deeper
Crimson rivers can't
bring yesterday's tears
Dull throbbing of a
sanguine rush invades
my erratic tranquility
Suddenly I recognize
the carvings of a familiar artist
and the hand that is mine..
hard at work.
Copyright © Stephanie Cawthon | Year Posted 2007
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