????

pain ridden eyes,

tear streaked thighs

pulsing for a

goodbye

are the life

of

strife.

But

what?

You expect me

to hide,

to not ride,

to side

with a

unglorious,

uneventful,

non- engagement?

I still dont know what your word-

safe-

meant.

Bent,

am i?

Sureptitiously draped

with morsels-

pics of

crepes- and

drapes

hide

ubiquitous

snakes

who want

my skin,

my breath,

Its their life

through my

death.

But fear not

and kneel high

to chance and the

sky,

for they alone

cry

dry

tears,

and leave

scars,

delicious scars,

that haunt for years

leaving no memory

of original fears,

but DO leave

the residue

of self-

assurance.