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by Kipper 

Posted: 29 June 2007
Word Count: 92

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Although respecting capering Death
he flirts with Her,
in all Her mistress roles and guises;
lifts Her skirts,
inhales Her essence.

And whilst new-sprung amazed,
he cannot yet allow
Life’s renewed bequest,
for Death’s siren echo
still resounds.

So he looks for, abets,
thus finds,
a self-dismemberment that suits him,
fits him;
knife in sheath.

Noose on neck;
(when Love pulls a little further away
at everything he’ll do or say);
rips him.

Grips him
(in the slow asphyxiation
of Love’s fading expression).
And Death’s proxy, Loss,
looks on and smiles.

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Comments by other Members

Star at 00:37 on 30 June 2007  Report this post

This is good. And sad and bad. Ouch... and it hurts, somehow.
Rips/Grips works well.


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