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Oct 2018
Took the strength of three
of me to align the planets with
the tone of your voice reflecting
fragments I see, "would be"
clinging to me like bedstraw
on my laces, shiftless
smiles I plead are true,
clairvoyance fulfilled fantasies
that I'd had minimal faith in,
rotting and hosting mildew;
regression inevitable and eremitic
more like a shield than an excuse
but no one seems to know the difference
between the two, this heresy tastes acidic
when everything I believe suggests
that there is purpose here concealed
in the cracks with blooming marigolds,
promises sealed in the irises of my eyes,
still unsure of the origins of this intensity
and allegiance I am accursed to uphold.
Zoe Averill Ren
Written by
Zoe Averill Ren  24/F/FL
(24/F/FL)   
136
 
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