More or less tacit.
Not quite an apology not all approval
Held close.
Radio silence.
Creeping itch, just enough to keep me up at night.
A sinister ruby glow- not quite red , but it's insinuated.
Roiling just beneath the surface, a battle takes it's shape
Forms it's lines
Wars won and lost, the spoils drip out on the floor.
Stay or go, reasoning presented against the surging tide.
Take arms, gentlemen.
Or take to your legs.
1 comment:
I came to see your work. It kept me from mine. I savored it for a moment then picked up my bindle and continued on my way, somehow not so heavily footed.
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