2004-03-06
A paper flower
A yellow paper flower with sharp edges that rips my heart in two. How I wish to...
I can't speak, for my soul is in pain...but this pain brings me absolute joy, because it directs my hands and compels me to write these words. These words are merely recordings of my heart's rambling.
Impatiently, I ask it each winter, "when will you turn to stone?".
But it never responds...I only imply that it will someday. It is too late, for I have already drank the poison, and surely, it will corrode me and reopend wounds. Blood will drip, tears will boil, and the soul will burn like paper under a flame.