By Divian
Submitted by koblo
Date: 2003 Dec 08
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[[2003.12.08.06.43.19601]]

Seven

Your hands encrust the multitude of growing agony
is smooth as if the sediments of anguish in your life
were enclosed in your hollow heart,
Swirling and swirling with the meandering way
you elegantly dance,
Until all is pristine.
From your soft supple skin to your creaseless palms,
to your glossy black eyes to your drifting hair,
You supress your choking melancholy,
and mould it to smouldering beauty.