TheFeatheredSleep – A claim staked by two
I am disappointed when
My thighs resemble dough
From lassitude or the dreaming void
I know not
While others jog I find ways to hide, and years bring encroachment
I am disappointed when stretchmarks form and breasts once firm and fine, fall
As if the hour, prescriptive written, perforation, was
all along a trembling, inken fate
Only in your arms
away from dull gaze of waxen youth
yet to taste harsh glare of life
Still blunt in their unlidded perfection
Was I ever so?
Only in you, I find solace to unburden these stored shames
Bidden me by my role as woman
The unkind hand, who beckons us close to fire
That we may touch a moment of glory
Then slow descent to nowhere visible
In my head of aches, I hear the cacophony of iteration
Women over a certain age
Sexless, sagging beasts of burden
We laugh over my…
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