adventures in dysthymia

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Bandages

Bandages-- that's what we are,
you know, the bandages on each other's
heart. And if we stop the bleeding
for a while, is that so bad?

Ah, but you will find, too soon,
all too soon, that I must stab
myself again and yet again.
There is no cure in your kisses--

only these moments of forgetting.
You will learn this and who, then,
will bandage my fresh wounds?

Stephen Brooke ©2004

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