Secret Pain
By Linrose
Tears drop, sharply onto my reddened knuckles, Hands clenched against their salty brine; Liquid shards sear my flesh ~ Pock-marked by the droplets of steam. Teardrops, capsules of sad tales to be released, shadowing the spaces between them; Dark places, left unexpressed. Written November 25th, 1994 © on Oct 03 2001 10:04 AM PST 0 • 1
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"Tears drop, sharply..."