Between The Lines (Poem)

It’s a divergence,  a parting of the ways

It’s a convergence,  a new beginning

The end of the dance

An untrodden path

It’s a blunt knife,  a bruise

Fresh snow creaking underfoot

Gone until you poke it

Cold air stinging

And remember

And refreshing

Draw onward unfalteringly

An untaken opportunity

Never glancing back,  for

Crooked finger beckoning

It’s a dark,  angry path,  there,  an eye 

Whispering promises of sunlight

A hungry and devouring mouth 

Long lazy days of laughter

Hot with desire and pain. 

Nights of passion and joy. 

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About Marie

An eccentric & quirky artist and writer who fills her time between fantasy roleplaying sessions with painting, writing and playing her guitar (rather badly). Usually to be found with paint-stained fingers surrounded by books and tubes of acrylic paint.
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