I wasn’t bled from the sea
The sky bled me, opened
her clouds,
her wounds
And spitting and coughing in grays
and bruised violets gave birth
you see the sunset
was always
meant to be for a waning
and waxing heart there’s the dark
with star strings attached
to your fingers that guide your
hands to pet your hair
There, there
the tuna that whispered your fears
(yet unnamed)
now caress your toes (for a) while
you swim and you ache to join
the mammals on the boat
should have remembered the tides
and their rides to the shore
for waves won’t swallow you whole
if you allow yourself to float
2 comments:
ha. i totally read that title as something else at first... guttermind.
love to have found this blog!
Hugs!
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