Sep 12
Undersold circular vow, encrypted against ingrown shards - the seedless mother Neith from which gore split her superiority to low frequencies devouring their black spinel printed offspring, denied not her abnegation in self-preserving - thy wing span crowded inside my *****, a cross bathed in salt and dried seaweed, siren to my purity.
Returning to self, to my creations, my creativity, rather than further harbouring a shared misery, sunbathing underneath our mutual insecurities, unresolved trauma, pent-up feelings. I set you free, as you wished; I let go a few years ago, bit by bit.
(22/Non-binary)
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