eternal #22

a precious stone
in enclosed ignorance,
is hidden behind the husk.

an ember,
without a chance to burn,
is quietly smoldering.

a daydream about someone
who will appreciate
the unpolished panes
of a gem.

panes that cut deep,
yet the blood from the wound
has the same taste as a blood
from a bitten lip.

withering wither
don’t lament your purity
or quest for an essence of love.

it is your pick to wake up
with the bland taste in the mouth
or with the taste of blood
on a bitten lip.

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