In my mind, you twist and turn with the grace of a katana slicing through plain air. Your shape flawless, your motion determined, your arcing trace light, the ring of your swing melodious, the driving force effortless, the impact hard, the damage done and irreversible.
Your blows hit me like a torrent. I shiver at the hilt, I dent and I groan under the weight. Your song tires me, your shape taunts me, your grace defeats me, your desire staggers me, every movement of mine is laborious, and there is no salvation.
Your tirade weighs heavy upon me. I want silence. I want peace. Give me peace.
Cut me down.
Count me out.
Your blows hit me like a torrent. I shiver at the hilt, I dent and I groan under the weight. Your song tires me, your shape taunts me, your grace defeats me, your desire staggers me, every movement of mine is laborious, and there is no salvation.
Your tirade weighs heavy upon me. I want silence. I want peace. Give me peace.
Cut me down.
Count me out.
No comments:
Post a Comment