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My fragile/ The Blood That Paints The Family Tree
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My Artform: Finshed The shallow of our wilds
commits to a clash.
The pettiest of insults
we collide to crash.
And we lay mashed,
tangled in one another,
like the blood paints the family tree.
The curtain that,
blind,
the inside of my eyes.
Closer to,
me than,i.
I am,
i breathe,
so there is she.
She shades me,
like the blood that paints the family tree.
Solid Images
The line lengths are a mystery, but the content rocks. Favorite line: "...like the blood that paints the family tree..." The poet is speaking here - allets