There is a dream that goes in two directions
One is home, familiar, warm
The world is a beautiful place
In darkness there are no shadows
The edges are soft, they blend like pastel clouds on sugar paper
I want to set it alight, watch flames lick and curl the corners up
Running along seams that threaten to rip and spill out
My fingers grip the sheets on the bed
The bruises beneath my eyes aren't purple or pretty there is no romance there
The fire in my chest isn't warm
It is sharp and barbed and digs at my insides
Black bleeds out, sticky tar I don't want you to step in
It will ruin your nice shoes
A memory lingers
A feeling
A flash of teeth meeting in a smile
Heaviness, muscle under flesh
The impulse is to dive into the water
(I've never enjoyed swimming before)
Dance barefoot with the grass tickling ankles, arms
Buttercups, crocuses, crushed beneath to regrow next season
It is not blood but sweet wine inside me and I want to drink
No comments:
Post a Comment