Porcelain.

I interpret the bargain in my hands
your porcelain face

carved within the timeline of apathy

I anticipate the shatter of delusions
specific to my crime

deny the denial of my every whim.

Dusk arrives and
I hurt more than I’ve ever done

stick the pins as we collide,
capitulate to the whore of wisdom

consider your worth.

One day you will be mine
forever entwined

dust to dust
ashes to ashes

we will rise.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw.