TheFeatheredSleep – There is power and joy in the simple, “I am, now.”
We talk about the past
I used to like talking about the past
it was a favorite drink warming my hands
when Winter first called
this time what has gone before now feels
sad and heavy like wet wool blanket left to dry
in insufficient heat
it leaches the warmth from my lavender bones
I feel sorrow and weighted down by metal reminder
who was that girl? Who absorbed
grief and laid it on her arms in shapes and symbols
to be read years later by Rune interpreter
did she really? Think she had no worth
so much so the days became years and the pain
soaked so much of her blood she longed to eat
meat
you craved her up and steaming you fed on her
badly wound lassitude
she forgot herself as she pretended
love means forgiving time and time again
she forgot, she was worth something
that…
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