Cradle Song

June 19, 2019

You told me, “to bed with you”

and now I am a land

between memories and the ridge of a scar.

 

You gave me something to look at:

bruises like nebulas that receded

into my skin.

 

Your touch — oh how I tried

to worry those wounds

with my own.

 

The stories blur,

become bulimic.

Ghosts and gaping holes appear —

 

in the black

at the edges —

I don’t recall them burning so beautifully.

 

Abandon ship. It’s time.

For me to change places.

For you to peer through the waves.

 

Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload

RECENT POSTS:

June 30, 2019

June 29, 2019

June 27, 2019

June 26, 2019

Please reload