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I buried a suitcase in the sand, It's contents to remain unknown. Although I wish to understand These are best if left alone: The interactions of two Within a circle of three, The meaning of You Of I and of Me. The silence that’s found At the sun’s first breath, A man that has drowned Yet experienced no death. The alignment of power On painted lips, The deadliest flower- A rose with a whip. The interstice between Ribs and their cages, Guardians without wings And the gentlest rages. Where land touches sea- A transient mirror, It seemed fitting for me To bury it here.
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Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 4:40 PM UTC
The Suitcase
I buried a suitcase in the sand, It's contents to remain unknown. Although I wish to understand These are best if left alone: The interactions of two Within a circle of three, The meaning of You Of I and of Me. The silence that’s found At the sun’s first breath, A man that has drowned Yet experienced no death. The alignment of power On painted lips, The deadliest flower- A rose with a whip. The interstice between Ribs and their cages, Guardians without wings And the gentlest rages. Where land touches sea- A transient mirror, It seemed fitting for me To bury it here.
darbi-howe
Written by
American
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 4:40 PM UTC
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