Friday, May 22, 2009

Red

Stop

The flowers of your love
are bleeding on the carpet
Your tired eyes watch the deepening sun
Set.

The apples are poised to plummet
to the fiery ground,
You trample the brakes
and illuminate the brick streets in soft
Glow.

Wine flows, a rooster crows
and you awake from the night,
Your heart in your throat.

Stop

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