Called forth by a voice that has not been silenced, just shushed. Scratchy wool rubbing up against silky skin begins to feel like wires. They dig in.
Unfurling and unraveling, crimson ribbons glide out of blackened depths. Swampy and murky, a long hidden cesspool with a life of its own. Creatures in your domain but not yours. Why are you not afraid?
Fingertips gone, talons sharp as steel blades in their place, they speak in deadly swirls. Gentle waves of hair slither as venomous snakes. Those crimson ribbons now drip with blood at the end of a beautifully lethal whip. You know it will whistle when it is yielded.
You are not only this. But you are this.
Can you feel the blood those talons could draw, the life that could be shredded, eviscerated? Can you see the fear inspired here? Silence reigns but it is no longer yours.
Safety. Freedom. Winds whisper to you, teasing you with tales of things you thought you would never have. Protection. Power.
Holding and hiding up until now, the stars and soil are now too bright and too rich to be ignored. The heavens sparkle as jewels in the black earth at your feet. The forest tells you to fly and fall, not to choose.
Enjoy the silence that is not yours. As nails and hair return, they are marked. You are marked. Your nails are blood red. Crimson ribbons weave through your hair. You are always and never only this.
Unfurling and unraveling, crimson ribbons glide out of blackened depths. Swampy and murky, a long hidden cesspool with a life of its own. Creatures in your domain but not yours. Why are you not afraid?
Fingertips gone, talons sharp as steel blades in their place, they speak in deadly swirls. Gentle waves of hair slither as venomous snakes. Those crimson ribbons now drip with blood at the end of a beautifully lethal whip. You know it will whistle when it is yielded.
You are not only this. But you are this.
Can you feel the blood those talons could draw, the life that could be shredded, eviscerated? Can you see the fear inspired here? Silence reigns but it is no longer yours.
Safety. Freedom. Winds whisper to you, teasing you with tales of things you thought you would never have. Protection. Power.
Holding and hiding up until now, the stars and soil are now too bright and too rich to be ignored. The heavens sparkle as jewels in the black earth at your feet. The forest tells you to fly and fall, not to choose.
Enjoy the silence that is not yours. As nails and hair return, they are marked. You are marked. Your nails are blood red. Crimson ribbons weave through your hair. You are always and never only this.
3 comments:
You are SUCH a good writer. <3
Thank you Alison, that means a lot to me coming from you!
Your unceasing talent and poetry never fails to touch me at my soul level.
You deserve so much better than what I currently seem to have to give. For what it is worth please know that I think of you often and I ache for you that you are still going through treatment...
Post a Comment