Tuesday, May 22, 2012


Let me run out of life
before the cascade of love
in your lush heart
runs out of force,
runs out of water,
runs out of sheer mirth.
I cannot float
pretty paperboats
in a pool of sweat,
or on a dry trail of tears.
They long for the waves,
the currents,
the rhythms of a surging life -
like the one flowing in my veins,
waiting to be stopped
dead in its tracks
by the glinting edge
of a fruit knife.

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