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Mar 2018
Memories exhumed like creeping camisados

are out here stalking once more. A cacophonous attack

of unsuccessful repression, screaming

of the foregone,

of the degredations you spat from profane pulpit,

and of my tongue, jarred, a malign antiquity.

And of what you left, burning from inside, that was

to emerge, in time, from what you liked best about me.

A fruit blossom blooming; a rose potted in ****-

I put that out after thirty-nine moons.

Tip toeing towards tremendous plains,

a few times tripped, but never tumbled.

The cacophony’s eurythmic now, now

that I recall where the screaming first stopped.Β Β 

A blossom, a rose (or something greater)

given to me to put things right.

My black turning blue, improved and renewed,

a parturition extinguished through love.

And now I bloom, faintly, in the shade of you.
Laura
Written by
Laura  27/F/England.
(27/F/England.)   
  587
   ryn, Maxx, A Simillacrum, Lila and Corvus
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