Treasure Island

Mark Richardson

(30/01/1973 / Leeds)

Breathe


Sitting still, breathing deeply, I listen for the music. A death breath, a showered haven. Inhale questioned doubt to exhale a taken choice. Laboured now from the weighted world. Panting, gasping for air, fill these lungs, these sacks, these chambers of desire. Her love exhumes my questioned passion and stains her chalice. Breathe my love breathe..............

Submitted: Thursday, August 20, 2009
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