I wash the slate clean with
tears of silk from the ether
of my newly mended soul,
but a feather touch of doubt
keeps me waiting for the
next wave of pain to hit.
The pulse of my burning
heart beats in waves,
crashing, smashing, calming,
caressing, bleeding chaos...
But wrap me in bands of
velvet steel, and kiss me
with sandpaper dreams,
and I wake in this sleeping
world, the fog of confusion
finally lifted from my eyes.
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