March 31, 2010
yours and mine
people. they form usmolding softlywith the gentle touch of a warm handtenderness, trinkets of truththe swords edge through an already broken heartstones to fleshmy malible skin exposedtoo long in the radiant lightwhite as snow, likely to be burned.we are all the samepainstaking journeys the ones to which we were bornand chose anew each daymy curse, life's richest blessingthe people who hold me, and mold me.
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