sábado, 8 de octubre de 2011

Flowery sword



A paradox lies within me
Coiled under its cool shiny scales
Eyes still, split tongue quivering

Testing the atmosphere 
Ready to cut deep through the walls of my bones
Slicing the marrow of my core

Kind coldness thickly trickling inside
Setting fire to wounds
of old feelings

I felt the cut of a disguised sword
sweetly saying that my words are too flowery
accompanied by an -"its okay"-

What I hear are layers of grey implications
and criticism as I am pulled back
by the slingshot of my woundedness 

A child I become
separate from my beauty
by howling winds of shame

Shipwrecked in an ocean
of tears, I extend my hand
and bring my self back
as I swim, returning  
to the shore of my written 
words


Remembering the joy of restoring 
the spaciousness
the freedom to be 
exactly 
me

No hay comentarios:

Publicar un comentario