piles of good lingerie
wrapped in tissue paper and filed away
amethysts and diamonds
locked in velvet-lined boxes
charcoal portraits drawn from memory
assumptive lyrics with no melody
cannot lose what is kept in it's place
until one day I treat my heart the same way
like an object
and why it never occurred to me
to object
to these objects or to being one of them
Monday, January 19, 2009
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