Wednesday, June 15, 2016

out of all this home I have built a rubble
and inside live like my own double
words like chalices stained from drink
spill forth meanings which only shrink
and try as I might to ply them well
they merely wane and echo in hell
through me who sweetly sings the verse
that twists her love from bad to worse
I close my mouth in hopeful haste
wishing I had more to waste

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