Float

float

 

Crossing lines drawn on his heart
Kinbaku for his three
The finish coming down to this
Promise made in agony
Dancing spirals coil through his skin
Draw him deep for more
Whispering of might have been
The deep and pungent lie
Scars of hopeless yesterday
Riding on the tides
To mark the surging nets of fear
That hold him tangled there
There is no middle, that’s the lie
No this way and no that
Half-submerged as good as dead
For now the lines are cut

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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