It is True

And ever has it been that love knows not it's own depth until the hour of separation

-KG

I

I, dingy drab withered lack-lust-er rag twisted and discarded

Once, a flower in your eyes, pure color reflected in pupils - scent essence

Now, wilted limp in your shadow after thick shadow - impenetrable

Unreachable depth

A room, left behind empty with the echo of tears on replay

Empty and bare

Punctured, you ooze out, slow and steady, drop by thick lovely drop

Soul, cavernous expanse indefinite and infinite

I, embrace a million thorns to feel the warmth of my blood trickling down my languid flesh

I, embrace you over and over and over in landscape barren and twisted - my mind