Poisoned Branches.
Torture taints connection,
Yet here again is the soft
Form. Create. Stretch.
Do my roots grow forth or
The grey blade still moves inside me. The coldness is no longer separate.
Forgiveness becomes
A crack in my eye shows my
To that one touch,
Forever.
Form. Create. Stretch. Ignite.
Weave the gentle dragging and
She is porcelain inside and the light of just one drop of her will melt the blackest night.
Words soak up space in my
Form. Create. Stretch. Ignite.
A sentence is a tapestry of
Delicate and moving.
Sweetly sharp, I will pierce
Peace and the unnamed are
Bones of mine are scattered
Wildfire races up my spine
Jeweled and jagged.
Form. Create. Stretch. Ignite.
Intertwine my tongue with
Lapping at the irresistible
Poisoned branches of my soul
Splinter down and break
Megan, The Anxious Poet, is the author of a 70 page e-Book, a four-part guide on all matters of Anxiety. Get your copy here.
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For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends The Desire Map: A Guide to Creating Goals with Soul.
Sip a little more:
Exhale: Surrender To Shadow Goddesses & Dwell In Places Of Discomfort