By J. E. Cook
I have this feeling
That I will be damaged goods~forever.
My threadbare scars will never entirely mend
and fuse my discolored skin…
Into one unit of less complex nervous causeways.
The need to be clean of you,
and feel safe and protected again is fierce
inside my gut.
My happiness is the upmost value,
my retaining wall must remain
high above all and lost in the vapors of many dust molts
carrying away the fragments of your being,
along with the untwined stagnant corpus luteum.
May my peace be renewed in the cobalt pools
surrounding my pulsing liquid red compassion,
As joy flutters in accompanied with surges of prosperity,
Keeping my inner light burning from a minuet flicker
to a full raging combusting furnace.