that sinking feeling, a solid weight
a silken treaty signed first by fate
bound tight with ribbon and cast to sea
won't bond with water, nor gasoline
head full of fire, hands cold as ice
eyes locked on nothing, tongue knotted tight
a bitter rhythm, a sour grace
and a heart of sweetness enshrined away
* * *
out to the meadow, hearts incomplete
to the great blue yonder upon naked feet
on the weeping willow where i lay to sleep
may the lion feed, so to spare the sheep
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