As I look up I see him stand there brined in charm ,
Like a nightshade poisonous yet a medicine to my incandescent scars which were scathing by the claws of time.
Something or someone long dead inside me awakens,
If there's anything that makes me feel any less than Odysseus it's his kiss over my scars of imperfection.
With every ounce of me taken I refuse to let go,
Oh he made a fairytale making every cliché right.
YOU ARE READING
Beyond Black & White
PoetryBeyond Black & White is a collection of my poems. A journey of rhythm and imagery, where words come together on blank sheets to tell stories.