badger11 Posted October 31, 2012 Share Posted October 31, 2012 The muffled scream of child. Later I join the Mother shuffling cards, sipping her gin, playing poker with ghosts that live to win. The smell of soil reminds her of Father, his hands as brown as clay. I have no kin: I am the voice that drifts within soft skin. As night unzips her heart, her lips as white as salt, I bind her soul until my sin empties a sigh for another end to begin. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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