Wrapped, clean and shiny, in their brown covers,
still untarnished by crimson soul.
Thrust in the back of the drawer like secret lovers,
they whispered to me, “I will console.”
Back and forth I argued.
Should I now or can I later?
How long before I become unglued?
Or will this be the final wager?
They were what you thought,
Silvery bright, stinging uncertainties.
Holding so much potential,
Wrought with latent possibilities.
Metal pushing hard against skin cells,
Waiting for them to surrender.
Smile on your face as pain swells.
You, my Dear, the ultimate pretender.
Watching in fascination
as insignificant red dots form.
Pulled from the depths of desperation
to see pin pricks transform.
Connect slowly.
Creating a line of relief.
Spelling boldly,
what had been esoteric grief.
-Cynic Ninja
