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Friday, February 17, 2012

Slated parallels

Slated parallels
spoken whispers
breathed in lies
split conscience
damaging wounds
dancing the subjugate
masked anonymity
call her or him
with the black ink
stained on my arm
transparent outcomes
not hoping, just dreading
loving him while he absently fondles me
not playing for fate or desire
him leaving it alone
coming back out of habit
pushing the Irishman away
saving my love for that
special 51 yr old
my age
my race
my language
my sorrow
shared abandonment
no surprises
giving and receiving
holding a treasure of time
and the window of opportunity
like the Virgin Mary in the sky
keeping the sign
transfigured in blood
on the cross.

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