We made the wrong choices
and they nearly killed us.
Those words rotted our teeth
and put cancers in our throats,
and when we would speak,
the ichor would soak
our chins,
and a fetid cloud would hang,
wet, over our lives,
a weighted blanket of lies
that pressed us into the earth,
where we thought
we could never move again.
But, the winds changed.
They blew away the rain
and let us realize we could live,
once we healed and cast aside
the words that kill.
Our mouths are sore,
but healing.
Our lips are peeling,
but that dead flesh
last touched the old evils,
and when it’s gone,
like spring,
our innocence
may be reborn as pink skin –
We have learned to live,
and give sweet kisses
on the other’s cheeks,
as would
first love-to-lovers
embrace in their gentle bliss.
©️ Obol, 2020.
Wow. I love this! The dark beginnings, the transition to something hopeful. Something beautiful and wonderful. Beauty and new life from scars. ~sigh~
Thank you. This one felt different somehow. The way I approached it mentally. Maybe it’s just heavier than my normal work. I thought for sure you’d comment on the Fathoms one!
You know, I had this big response to it… but was so moved by it… it felt like anything I might add would make it less somehow, if that makes sense. Believe me… I read it, I don’t know how many times.
Even as I read this one, I want to hold a whole book of your work in my hands. To maybe let some of the magic seep into my fingertips.
Thank you for that praise. You’re going to inspire me to wear an ascot to ensure max poet vibes. That said, I wrote the first few lines of something I hope will be a thematic collection.
ooohhhhh you tease! lol
The question is whether I’m teasing about the book or the ascot. 🧐
LMAO ohmygoodness that comment gave me the giggles, seriously.
Victory!