the stone was no barrier
her soul couldn’t break
the tangled yearning of her heart burst free
and swooped from the windows lip
to caress the clouds in the ever width of blue
and twine about the thatch’s peak
a faux yellow to her gold
and she smiled at the ones who claimed
she had never tasted freedom before
(a witch in her own right)
i find her tender / lipstick smudged / making the illison of a soft smile / on her face / and she asks / looking out at the sea of faces / so familiar that it hurts / “will this all matter tomorrow?” / will the pounds she lost to date him / will the friends she shed / the clothes she wore / matter at all / and i lie / because i have been wondering the same thing / “yes, of course……it has to.”
it has taken me a long time to realize / that i owe it to no one / to have to a read a book / when i don’t like the words / and that applies to people too
i get up late / and stretch my muscles / like a tawny jungle cat / opening my jaws in a small yawn / saving my roar for another day / and for all the mothers / who cautioned their daughters / of the wilds of the world / and taught them the ways / of the scurrying creatures / that lie underfoot in the foliage / you are not like my mother / who brushed my glimmering pelt / and crooned old lullabies / telling me that i shared a similar bone structure / to wondrously wild things / and i could change the world / if only i learned to roar truth
he let his tongue wander \ into the nectar sweet cavern \ of my mouth \ touching my sides \ with his soft large hands \ brushing over the parts of me \ that used to my favorite \ but i had buried all away \ whispering to me tales of metamorphosis \ like a calling to a church \ burying past all my cocooned layers \ to capture the chained beating \ of my moth heart \ and setting it free
Perfectly Imperfect Me 