Thursday, May 14, 2015


They come in a heap,
the chains that bind,
the links that interlink.
The shiny silver
that enticed your eye,
so flexible and lithe,
decays upon your touch.
And, with the days,
the inflexible finger of rust,
brings its arthritic grip.
Hostage to desire
the magnetic need
heaps upon the heap,
rusts upon the rust.

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