Thursday, July 5, 2018

Bottled up...

I write best when my lips and tongue
are purple stained.
That purple rain
was nothing more
than truth to vein.
The liquid expression
of love to pain.
Allowing me the courage
to give the scar a name...

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Waves...

I can't offer neat or simple... Can’t give a breezy kind of love… Boxed up and wrapped away To open in easy moments Choosing when a...