Sunday, September 15, 2013

Of Scars and Bones

She is wrapped, delicately
Between the secret circles
Of her heartbeats sweet arythmia,
A dislodge of sixteen years
Worth of silence.

I go to her, a sweet surrender
And ask her of what duty
Keeps her from the 4am sleep.
She speaks in cold tones
Of witches and bats,
How they call to her
In silent tongues outside her window.

Her truth is a candle-flick
I cannot decipher,
And I imagine her feminity
Calls out its own echoes
Between the whispering, brittle walls
Of her bone matter,
A spider-web maze of old scars
That spiral a void
Into her left eye socket,

1 comment:

  1. Blown away wow Stacy words do not suffice this is so powerful, so visceral, so vivid, and so painful


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