I am still waiting for the moon
to find her own light. I mean,
she can’t just lie there like a
mirror forever, can she? Can I
please hold something in my
hands that might not wane?
If I rip myself open, hold these
inky veins out to an indifferent
sky, will I understand the stars?
This is me, unpeeled. Revealed
in scattered lines. A revolution
of sighs and silence. A slightly
broken smile. A quiet chance.
Fingers frozen by wings of doubt
and drought. Also, this: I should
never have asked you to dance.
..
Anmol over at dVerse posted an incredibly well researched prompt that I have been trying to get back to since Tuesday. Check it out.
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Sheesh, you are so good. It’s a travesty each day that goes by with you not writing a poem.
Thanks, Girl. Struggling lately, but wading my way back.
Love that song … “Wade in the Water.”
“This is me, unpeeled. Revealed/in scattered lines.”
So, one can see through these scattered lines as the inky veins are put up for discernment and understanding of this body, that is so much more than what it does or shows. I love how you turned into this confessional flow with small burst of sentences and how it feels so natural to be reading it, as if its substance is already known. Great job! 🙂
Each line is superb De. Love this part:
This is me, unpeeled. Revealed
in scattered lines.
De, I simply stand, awed. You wow me with your beauty-in-words. Every. Single. Time. ❤