In My Deep

Small heart shaped leaf, found on rock in Hawaii

While I am working out my printer issues, and bobbling about through stuff. I have stumbled across a couple of poems I have written. I write out my poems rather quickly, like in 10 minutes. I close my eyes, and start typing. I feel nothing at first, then words start forming. I type them out to release them, and I am always surprised in the end, what was lingering in my deep.

Be careful in your anger, words are lethal then.


Tasted In The Writhing

With clenched fist
And spitting venom.
The gift of self-righteous vigor was given.

So timely and with acute precision,
that arrow was driven.

Its dipped, venomous tip, wrapped up like a bow.  Satisfaction laced with victory smiles, as you stand there and watch your gift be given.

But your satisfaction wanes in the slow beat of their turn, you catch a look of pain.

And no words can describe the quickening of your regret. And you work to retrace your step,  before last that look is gone.

But it is not the same,
when all is done.

Unwrapped daggers
tossed on poisened breath.

Cannot be

From that bitter knot.

And there goes the wounded target, slowly. With gaping wounds that healed not in parting.  Nor from your apologetic tongue still sharp and feeding, from the blood that was tasted in the writhing of your anger.

The blood that beat in the tender heart, un-armoured.

Now you choke on the silence of their parting.

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