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Nov. 8th, 2006 @ 03:54 pm Tain
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hope on a string
ioianthe:
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From:mebib
Date:November 8th, 2006 09:45 pm (UTC)
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woman: darling dear what have you done?
your clothes are town, your make-up runs.

daughter: i ran through brambles, blooming thistle
i washed my face in the river when you whistled me on.

woman: darling dear, what hav eyou done?
your hands and face are smeared with blood.


*sigh* Yep...thats me...
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From:ioianthe
Date:November 8th, 2006 09:50 pm (UTC)
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widow: o the wind is blowing, it hurts your skin
as you climb up hillside, forest and fen.

your arms full of lullabies, orchids and wine
your memories wrapped within paper and twine.

the room that you lie in is dusty and hard
sleeping soft babies on piles of yards
of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk
your dry hungry mouths cry for your mother's milk.


And that's me.