June 20, 2009

A multitud of sin is in her wings

Impatient being I am,
but I wait.

Out of the corner of my eye
I see the cobweb catching your shadow.

There's the spider,
Eight eyes hunting.

The cosmos can throw a stellar punch.

Sometimes I feel you dripping and melting,
the smell of hot wax.

Desire is left forgotten on a wing,
fallen angels resist to recall
how a smile felt.


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