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06 July 2007 @ 02:11 pm
The Flame and Her Moth  
It's a race! she cried;
A much more lively soul than I.

With a hand to her lips, she tried to hold onto our first kiss.
O the softest touch-only once!
Only once was all it took...
A kiss may destroy a philosophy.

(The SpanishFrenchAmerican girl said.)

Smoke rings and stranger things painted on the chrysalis
Looking for a flame to awaken the moth-
Was it me? Was it you? Was it just the thing to do?

Which way was home?

I can't go back! he cried;
And knew myself for the fool.

A finger's trace across a cheek hides an eye behind a strand
Of bitter memory.
O the harshest word-only once!
Only once, and all my tomorrows crowd together,
Grasping at the walls formed from the substance of that word.


The smoke dissipates, but the flame still burns;
And no one to patch the wings.
Will it fly? Will it die? Will it ever know why?

And who won?
Current Mood: refreshedrefreshed
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