11 Feb

Etch

etch

envious pane of pain inflicted
traducing threads woven by wombs
& I had once abnegated the untoward dissension

…but I now mark my recalescent words
– in a frisson of an etch
suffusing my breath upon the glass; smiling
from outside the prison at your awry reflection

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In this shrine to my muse, my mind runs stark naked. To be read by a mature & sex-positive audience. If you are easily offended or under-age please leave immediately.