"He's the man with the giant fruit."
That's the response she says to the male
Who prods his head with a slide sigh
"He does beautiful work and no one can ever really know."
He asks her why and she smiles with her teeth
She says you can think of the answer
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
We lead our lives like we hand out a basket full of diamonds
We may share our diamonds with one soul, or we may find a few who we trust with our jewels
These recipients may string our gems value their worth
Or they make discard our stones
Some make their diamonds little and hand them out easier
Others will savor a few, select precious pieces
These are the details
Have we ever thought about what happens though
If those accepting our gifts leave
Can Diamonds Die?
I look at you with a smirk on my face, but note the tenderness in my voice when I reveal to you
That diamonds die along with those we bury.
You don’t un-give a gift and you don’t get your diamond back
No, what happens is you go on knowing where your treasure lies,
Or, rather, where it will never be again
The only light you may see shed in the vast darkness where your stone is absent
Is knowing that you gave your diamond because you wanted him to have it
You wanted him to have a piece of you,
And knowing he has a bit of you
Makes you believe
You still
Have a piece of
Him
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC