zaidam

Brazen skin. Under the cracks I see silk; Rusted and darkened, breaking at the seams. The feeling is similar, but within the grooves, Running my fingers along a familiar plane, I become lost, Confused; Naked against the differences. But I submerge deeper, looking for discrepancies. Same eyes, same mouth, same voice: Old-age antiquities, invaluable to me. But the silver tongue doesn’t divert me. Soft spoken, Words pour into my ears. Persuasion is the greatest weapon, lies like poison. The bombardment insistent, the damage invisible. But secrets float to the surface. And hearts, Beating blood or bile, Never belong to two.