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Your guiles are empty jabs, your heart a distant place.
Rated: Fiction T - English - Poetry/Angst - Chapters: 2 - Words: 115 - Published: 05-10-11 - id: 2913914
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Freedom looks good on you.
Dancing free;
A kite on a windy day.
But not so free as once thought,
She's got a hold on you.
String all fisted in chubby grip
and she's shrieking laughter.
You swoop and swivel
and brush through static air,
darting into my personal space,
only to vanish.
A spectre of my imagination
would be less tragic than this, girl.
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