Flailing Empty Capillaries

You were there from birth,
passed down from father to son,
waltzing through my veins. My muse.
We embraced, perfectly on pitch,
a song, and then I found
another
and I left you.

Still I see you
tattooed on my wrists. Thick
black lines, a G
and an F. Permanent,
my former muse, over my veins,
under my skin,
a perpetual reminder.

I stare at you, remembering.
Still wanting
to create with you. After all,
you are in still in my blood,
but you’ve left my heart. Empty capillaries flail
like strings waiting to be plucked,
longing to be played once again,
but I’ve forgotten the tune.




all rights reserved. Copyright Justin W. Price Jan 3rd, 2012.


View the original here:

http://pdxkaraokeguy.hubpages.com/_3gvrkbouobv74/hub/Flailing-Empty-Capillaries

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