TW: STRONG LANGUAGE
Secure these insecurities,
because I own up to every thought I think about.
It's my scissors against my shirt's sleeves.
F×U×C×K it.
Now my arms wear nothing but the sun.
The world is echoing,
but slurs and stones never broke my bones.
So I'd like to dance with The One,
the one I find in the mirror.
Because flowers don't grow to vilt,
they grow to bloom.
I want to dance with you.
Went from hurt to heal.
My thin skin smiles;
my back can tell when the shirt's cropped above my waist.
A firey lust roars.
My hands seek places,
calm it down, bring water to the fire.
Facetious remarks to the pointed abash,
shots fired at the pride in my thighs;
but my faith thrives,
my faith thrives...
... in them and The Brave, my legs
because running away was always easy.
This poem stripped me down,
but I wear these words;
naked.
YOU ARE READING
Ethereal
PoetryEthereal is a poetry book. It is a poet's benevolent prattle about growing up, attaining maturity, embracing delicacy, moving on and it's what you find when you finish walking on your path of self discovery...for now.
