Nov 2015
smoke-sheet eyes, you
questioned me behind
a mesh divider
all my hot hard "no"s
all my parting throes -
terrifying, endless, and gaping.
you questioned,
and never answered
you opened me like
an underripe fig
I didn't understand
how a person
could pull me apart
too soon.
Now I mould
over, I bruise
and hug the wet,
black ground.
questioned me behind
a mesh divider
all my hot hard "no"s
all my parting throes -
terrifying, endless, and gaping.
you questioned,
and never answered
you opened me like
an underripe fig
I didn't understand
how a person
could pull me apart
too soon.
Now I mould
over, I bruise
and hug the wet,
black ground.
There is a time and a place for everything; in the absence of this, life falls out of balance and we succumb to the allure of alternate scenarios instead of crafting meaning in our current lives
