unfolding, like so many petals
the vulnerability exposed
as the heart opens up

memories of what has passed
knowing what is to come
tug like a lost child’s hand

difficult and reserved
tears of impurity etching
skin no longer young

a mere shadow
not quite forgotten
stands here bleeding

I found this poem in a beat up, dusty old handwritten journal a little while back and posted it here and in a writing community. I couldn’t remember at the time why I wrote it in the first place but it struck me odd. Now… I think I’m beginning to recall the why of it and I kinda wished I wouldn’t remember. Not that it matters – I never change and I am afraid I’m doing it to myself all over again. (Someday I will learn to let it go instead of dwelling.)

So I’m revisting this poem to rework it – you can find the original by clicking here.

Archived on WordPress @ 4 April 2017

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