suddenly,
within his breath,
her darker self appears;
the strings longing for the bow's touch.
tears fall from the edge of the violin
her beast the tune he plays.
cries through the leather of night
forcefully penetrate her
calling,
persistently calling
with the chains that ignite
an insatiable thirsting
for the
illegalities of taboo.
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
11nov09
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