Standing with my back to the wind
I, stopped in my transparent attempt
At the better life within,
Offer you a stand still
Against the bare skin of my forth indentation.
Your limbs of full excess
Brushing the paints
Coveted in your inside opening.
I bend down and snatch you
Tearing you out of your safety roots.
Ripping your limbs, soft and frenquently abandoned,
All to better my purpose of beauty.
I clench my fist,
Palm of my hand, our repressed memory.
You know me.
With your limbs crushed in my hand
I release you to the cliff I once wanted.
But I know that only you shall know me.
We will meet again.
 
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