I hold you in my invisible heart, the second one I've learned to grow
It holds all the painful emotions, memories and challenges
You're the ivy up a tall dark wall, budded, grew and spread
spiralling and twisting around that cold metal heart where your memory lays dead
Though you are not dead, nor different or a monster
You live behind my eyes, my frown, my deppest darkest thoughts
Your the black dreams in the night that play out my subconscious pain
A strong and close memory I keep contained my my second heart.
A small, cold box holding pride of place
On a wooden self inside a dingy damp closet
It's full of the most horrific memories that a person will ever have.
Lucky, or not, The Cash Story is the box's only occupant, alone...
But strong and vibrant enough to crush.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
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