So, I allow myself
briefly
to wallow
in the self pity
that appears
to like me;
wants to feast
surreptitiously
on my confidence.
I reach out to her.
My unconditional,
constant source
of sheer compassion.
Her past haunts, softly
bleeds into my memory,
before grabbing, shaking
smacking and shoving me
into perspective.
YOU ARE READING
Intermission
PuisiPoetry written many years ago. I found my voice and lost it. As a step towards recovering my voice I decided to share these poems.
