the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Last One

I fed off of your secrets like apples left in Eden
Whose ovaries carried bitter babies
That would be cradled in the ground.
Carbon copies of original sin dug under my skin
Through the hole left in my throat from birth.
I am not the one who told you first
That it doesn't take a surgeon to fall out of a tall tree,
These cuts are feeling breezy, yeah nothing cuts easy.

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