5.13.2005

Spiderlegs

Your pale cheek
Was never weak
Enough to raise the dead.
The spinning hands
And flowing strands
Of silk are what they bled.

An inkwell lies
Within the eyes
Of one whose heart was true.
To hold your pen
To them again
Would surely bleach their hue.

A lesson learned
Through tears unearned
Will make a sightless scar,
But veils drawn
Against the dawn
Will show them what you are.

2 Comments:

Blogger Ryan said...

"But veils drawn
Against the dawn
Will show them what you are."

that part's rad, not gonna' lie.

I like it.

2:48 PM  
Blogger coffee girl said...

weak enough to raise the dead? that part realy confuses me....so my mind gets wrapped around the first part confusedly and then cant figure out why the rest of it makes sense if i cant make the first part..ya know?

10:30 PM  

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