(no subject)

[gwenhwyvar_rose]

Stop.
This mounted breath;
Stop.
Exhale ecstasy is in these rites of smoke.
Breathe.
Stop.
Mounted, ridden, pinned,
Eagles beak.
This is passage.
I am bringing me down,
I am laying me down to sleep…

My hands trace etchings of a body I once was now could be
Should be.
Find this breath,
I dare myself.

Searching for frail.
I am evolving myself,
The joints
The knuckles
Of my hands
My fingers

Bruised and soft.
Swollen.

Like over-ripe peaches my eyes burn.
I never look close enough to know their color.

If I could take these flour wings
I would
Find this breath
I would
Lay me down to sleep
I could
Etch myself
In the woman I was I could be
I should be.

Stop.