when

February 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

When passion turns poison
When love corrodes
when the wounds salted
tears rust
when hands can’t hold
And gold goes copper
And Cupid gone fallen Icarus
From his own arrow awry
when the illusions stripped
armour scraps
when you know but don’t want to say
when the weeds grip the last rose
when we are foam and dust
and you take your crown off
bow and drown softly in what was

then when we are ready to begin.

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