TheFetheredSleep – speaking the unspoken
The lonely heart
of a girl
who liked her own
kind
is not written down in history
there are few
stories of this
quiet, often eclipsed, furtive, secret
kind of longing
less even spoke aloud or transcribed
for what could be said? Admitted?
Instead, there are, no doubt
trees growing exceptionally redolent
nourished with the grieving, private hearts
of girls throughout history
who buried their flesh
beneath tender roots of a sapling
when it became abundantly clear
their tongues served them no purpose
in speaking of a love
no-one wanted.
These girls … I wonder
about them, sometimes as I tramp
red cheeked and furious
up hill side, when sitting still and
desiring felt like cold bars of a jail cell
seeing above me the wielding kite and her
long expanse, mocking almost with her freedom
for fierce she is, unable to
be anything but predator
time lapses into a…
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