Textures #14


– the spectrum of love –
it’s funny

how we learn about ourselves

i tiptoed around for a long time

trying to be silent

trying to not be heard

i nodded and accepted and drew

shadows on the palms of your hands

you asked for my understanding

but had none in return

shell-like i wandered

among the flowers made of painted metal and wire

they cut at my ankles and the blood tainted the white gown

i walked through the meadows and down the hills 

until it was no more i than the leaves 

on the trees 

and at dawn

i died

.

.

.

i was reborn

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