Room 207

comfort entwined
you crush me with your eyelashes
and stir me with your fingers
as bittersweet coffee or
blackened water
deep as night's depth
we cling to life
by threads frayed
from fake flowers

Qu'est-ce qui se passe?
Carpe diem, you say
so we clutch onto time as it passes by;
it is warm here, it is safe
you cover me with love
folded over at the top
tucked in at the sides

the hours unwind
you devour me, devour me
drown me in kisses of honey cider
deep as night's depth
that we may succumb to life
by threads frayed from fake flowers
and words long forgotten

for O.

9 March 2003, Sunday, 12:11 PM

previous serve | antipasto | archives | email | next helping

Alter ego of dandruff

Does this site look a little ugly? Try a Web standards compliant browser.