Tears
They sound like the roar of a lion and taste like shattered glass. Each spill sighs a silent glimmer. What story do you tell? None, for the prison hides you well.
posted by Scarlet Sphinx at 7:24 PM
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
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9 Comments:
Not only my window and my door and my touch and my wound I open. I open my tongue in two and three tombes and it's secrets. In the dark where no one hears a teardrop fall.
V
A hand for the brave and a knife for the handsome. Sleep for the touch and a throne for the wound.
Nice to see you again, perv.
Dark. Beautiful. I dig it.
::brushes snow off jacket::
yer damn cool, Scarlet.
count me out of fire-fights though. not lookin' forward ta gettin' all charred and sh#t. ;)
Beautiful. I look forward to reading more. :)
Thank you all :)
"..our passions were those of the tempest, the surge and impact of battle.."
excerpt from The Garden of Fear
::grins:: Familiar, no?
I have not read that story, but the passage speaks to me. Although, I'm not surprised that you are familiar with anything by Robert Howard, sol!
::nods:: u know me well..
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