As I stood within the flames you talked upon the water
Ten fingers reaching out, yet only one pointing back
The seared flesh upon my frame caused your ample bosom to seem ever more enticing
Why do your eyes still haunt me?
I never once laughed, but your throat became hoarse
And great mirth writhed behind your countenance
I am now bare, no flesh can be found living on my frame
Bone made brilliant white from scorching sunlit sky
While you draw breath rotting, imprisoned
Within a sagging, decrepit soulless cell
My hands reach out
No longer
-j.g.smith (06/04/07)
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