Sunday, April 05, 2009

Not An Illusion

You scrub your hands
until skin falls off
like red snow flakes
but you cannot stop.
You know his eyes will see
the microgerms speckling
your skin like a forbidden tattoo.
You wish you can sprinkle
gold dust in the air
and embrace the illusion.
But you will not turn back
because you love him.

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April 2, 2009