Pulled along, on a string, the month of may's brightest diamond is strung out. It is understood that to acknowledge the sting is to fear the sting, and so it was decided that the stone's eyes were to be kept partially shut, otherwise blinded by the steam that is often produced by lust, relying on dumb luck, only to be stung at the month's end.
I was clutching the fray, in shock I released my grip accidentally, a natural reaction to such venom, and I regretted it instantaneously. Perhaps I could have put up a fight. I consider this a lot after long ago losing my sight, I drift in the undertow, alone or parrellel with yet another beautiful girl that doesn't mean a fucking thing to me; with arms outstretched we can not reach eachother, no we're simply not together and never again will I collide with you.
The shallows imply that there is a deep end.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment