Words are spears; sharp points
Shrouded
In a comfort blanket.
Blood is drawn.
It trickles
Down.
Serrated edges kiss the flesh,
That caress I wish I had had,
Distorted: better than nothing.
My eyes are dry.
New tear ducts, gouged out
By syllables:
I love you
Elation; heart swells.
As a friend.
Implosion; too far swollen.
A knife at the throat of my femininity.
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Comments 2
I can sympathise with your poetry, as this happened to me when I was about 14-ish; although I don't have the poetic skill that you have to convey the feelings, I know that they are painful.
Thank you for writing this, and I hope that you feel better for it. [Hugs]
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