books and stuff



© by Shannon Watson 2015

I sharpen my blade

and prepare it for your throat
I’ll use my loaded gun on your temples.
then when I see you my blade is hot and melts in my hand,
the gun fires blanks, and you’re only bruised,
But what about me?
I’m beyond bruises, blades and guns
you’ve broken me beyond repair
your wounds heal

but mine are still open



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This entry was posted on February 26, 2015 by in Poetry and tagged , , , , .


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