my veins became laced in history, prehistoric fossils of pain and trauma.
i often wished to be alone because isolation was my personal nirvana.
the ticking of a clock and your kneecaps up in mud, my mind- pandora.
unlock it, with a rusty key and some marijuana.
swaying your hips and wrapping your arms around yourself, slow dance in silence.
the only real comfort you know is your own self and the waltz.
funeral gowns draped over chairs and in his place grows dead violets,
distance is settling as you cannot grow attached to ones you don't know.
all you can taste is salt.
YOU ARE READING
goddess complex.
Poetrygoddesses are strong and brave and powerful, yet they know pain and suffering. { this is a poetry book of all of my best work in my opinion }
