Its calm now,
relieved
the boisterous waves that lashed
violently on the warmer shores
have abated.
Words that rained have percolated
down to the basic beliefs.
But still
however it rains
the sea remains saline.
Thoughts and memories
miles of difference.
Gazing at the gleaming blade
enchanted by its fatal charm
and how it would feel
against the pale white of
the inner arm.
the cold feel against the warmth
of human flesh.
A chill.
Let it touch
and press it deeper and deeper
and out gushes the fountain
crimson,
enchantingly beautiful
the coldness spreading to every cells.
the morning shall see my thoughts pale.
And then shall I become a memory.
See the difference..
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