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Made of Art
February 20, 2008
I.
I am made of ribbons.
One just as shredded as the next.
Stop. Start. Text.
I need.
I get.
I want.
YOU.
You, are just a form of alienation.
Twirling a knife through your fingers
You're outlining beauty
And slicing my belly.
WE.
Cringe as ink slips around our in clasped fingers.
Threatening to relapse,
I smile.
Dragging the liquid down your throat
We are filled with shredded canvas.
And You,
Unlike I,
are made of art.
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