what we do...

In orbit

I flee
you run
we meet -
in the middle

sparks flying
as metal against metal
twists and splinters

warm flesh
to cold skin
fingermarks transferred

I run
you flee
but somewhere,
in the middle.

Poetry by muddy waters
Read 799 times
Written on 2006-07-23 at 20:00

Tags Orbit  Love  Doubt 

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