Tuesday, November 3, 2009

The Failing Girth of Heaven

I slept til noon. Then still I slept some more. In a brittle bed of feathers and dust. The cellar in her thighs holding me hostage. For all the ways I had used the truth to my advantage.

We climbed tall buildings alone. To discover each other at the top. And jump off together. We bathed in the blood of the lamb while grooming the lions. The potency of real bedtime stories on the cusp of our lips. As we said only what was to be heard. In long stairways. Leading up to musty boxes. Filthy with too many of the precious things we've neglected.

I woke up. In his hungry arms. Certain he'd devour me. Like any god he expected all of me.

As with any paradise. It was only temporary.

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