Friday, March 19, 2010


(Pre-Script: This poem pairs well with the song,"Here In Your Arms," #47 on the playlist, so go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading...I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

If you water a thing down until the water is clear
and all the colors have flowed down the drain
and you have rinsed the color from around the rim
of the drain, then no one
will ever know the difference
was it blood or paint that rinsed off
and down your skin, was it-
did it go all the way deep, or just
sit on the surface, and had it dried
or was it still wet, fresh and vibrant
or was it like a scab, dark and set on the outside
fresh and bright once the top layer was removed
the evidence of what still pulsed
as always
just beneath the surface.


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