I sit, my legs knotted
Matching, an esophagus
Paralyzed, affecting vocal cords,
Twisted, ripped, torn.
An attacked heart,
Damaged, dying.
And you hit me,
With what was once,
A caress, a stroke,
An attack of,
Equal force, to the,
Mind,
My brain paralyzed.
A mute child
Wrapped cashmere self,
Always, those nails, red,
Chipped.
The polish fragments,
Breaking ,
pieces
pieces
pieces
Cracks appearing,
Dispersing, remnants,
Of what once,
Was, whole.
A voice, a self, a soul,
That did not need,
to be made,
undone.
For I left,
you,
A place, a space,
A dwelling hole,
Where your lips,
Had once,
Given colour to,
The china cups,
With their lingering smell,
Of Jasmine,
Thé vert à la rose.
As,
Tea stains,
Sojourn memories,
Leave their mark.
A day of remembrance,
Prominence given, to,
That moment,
You, left.
© Sia Jane