Be Bold

ache
red shame
swell of black desire
riding tendrils of empty hope
what's the sound of one ego deflating?
just a little death,
a lot of pain,
and thou.
so, come on now.
wound me a little more.
press the raw, bleeding emotions
with a closeness born of pity
and that sweet, democratic conscience of yours.
touch me again
and I'll rip your heart out.




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