There's still an imprint of
your hand on my face,
from the day you first struck me-
a love story between
paper skin and
iron fists.
It's been long since the redness faded
(long, not gone)
a bruise visible to not another soul
but mine.
𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘋𝘐𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚.

It smiles back in pictures
mocks me in mirrors
follows me on the street.
You created the mark
but I gave it a life,
a name- a structure
and decorated it with my self worth.

Bruised knuckles smeared in betrayal
𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸
Snake infested waters
𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘥.

Looking for a sign that I’m heard-
Is it a bird outside my window,
A shaft of sunrise in my sky.
Is it a song come out of nowhere
Remembered and sung word for word.
How can you recognize a sign
When you don’t know what you’re looking for.
ljm

The ancient Egyptian elites
Took an army o dolls to the west
Each had a role
To fulfill after the rest
And then life beyond
What was known
Each defined by a spell
The master never alone
Free to enjoy his boat o millions o years
While the Shabti labour
And absorb
All his cares.

The view from
between your legs,
with my glistening
face in the soft
lamplight is
more than
sublime.

The trust
is thick,
and
sweet.

Your happy
moans are like a
symphony from
Mozart as I wait
for the
grand finish.
dun dun dun dun dun dun dun
dun dun dun dun dun
Dun Dun

DUN

You pull me inward,
and I smell
Paradise.
Sticky faced
ambrosia.