A flicker. A flare. One more dance in the wink of prayer.
A shimmer of the living, gone.
Wrecked and worn out, a long hour of midnight whispers — I muse before the ashes of my despair.
Worry has made her lair in my breast,
undisturbed she lies—
like stones in my gut
where demons dwell—
driving her forth
waiting to be hunted,
but never to hunt.
Always waiting for that day
But that day never comes.
Outside, the world has teeth, and those teeth tear and chew
Devouring the astonishing light of her being—
Until all there is — is darkness
And wind blowing bleak, hollowing.
The door is closed, the house is shut, and the gates are fast locked; whoever holds the key to her unspoken woes is kept away — safe from the world with its teeth.
And still
There is
A flicker.
A flare.
A ghost in purgatory, savoring her final breath for a moment of peace.
Only darkness follows in my sleep.
Kept hidden from the world with its teeth.
And when the sun rises in spring, will peace awake from a once-upon-a-dream?
- The World With Its Teeth
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YOU ARE READING
the words I kept
Poetry"𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓱..." these are the feelings I carried with me, thoughts I held back, scars I hid, and all the words I kept; my friend and my foe. Warning: some may be triggering, dis...
