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trail of blood

the trail of blood, of past loves, shudders
when I step too close. I want to make your bones
the white frame of my windowsill, strip
ribbons of skin from your back and lace my shoes.
I want to keep pieces of you with me everywhere
I go. I never want to be just another tally on the prison wall
above your bed, another notch in your headboard.
instead twist me till I fit the depression in your sheets,
the ache and crease between our vessels.
tonight the parallels between our skin is closed.
follow the yellow brick road, darling. pin the witch
beneath the mattress, her shoulders driving nails
to the floorboard. your heavy heart is what I call my home,
the fear of fucking up my saving grace. give me the upper hand
so I have something to hold.
as I’m going down on you.

3 Jul 07

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A powerful poem. If it were mine I'd get rid of the first line and start with the very powerful -
"I want to make your bones the white frame of my windowsill" I also think it reads better if you delete the phrase "the fear of fucking up my saving grace." And please lose the last line. It detracts from a well written piece.
 — erato

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