7.11.08

Folds

Cotton silk. Two disparates. Coming together. Woven. Warp and weft. Coloured red. Darkened deeper. Splashed. Touch the fabric. Without me. Soft. It folds. Between them. Me. Lie a hundred secrets. Open them. Discover. The rough edge. The smooth soul. The knife. The pain. Jab. It’s only fabric.

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