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Post by Ivan Carswell on Jan 27, 2008 20:26:13 GMT -5
I should have left it there; - to carry on the rant for years has meant the stable peace we shared is bent beyond repair.
Or bent beyond redemption at the very least, you’d think, beyond the reach of clemency – a link which wears the thinner
with its discontent. And there’s the irony, it gathers strength. It grows and glows a halo that entwines our souls in twists of
silken thread – I am enmeshed abed with thoughts of you I’d rather shed, a slave of comfort only you provide, a gladiator
left alive when all the others died: their swords in hand they bled a sticky death for vacant eyes that scarcely noted their demise.
You took my head between your hands and said that glory came to nought for love, and love was dread the brave alone endured. © 9 May 2007, I.D. Carswell
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