When I write on a flower petal
the words become invalid
any kind of affection is futile
a relic in the middle of a forest.
.
a podium without lights but shimmering
brilliantly
lighting up the smiling faces lurking
behind the makeup
subterfuge
Hidden pain?
.
My affection sketch in crayon
red
green
violet
yellow
each colour blended together with joy
the one time imprisoned soundly in hell
the one time wound completely sealed
.
from my chest, a river pouring
upstream
my blood coursing through the villages touch each hamlet
on my shoulders
the sizable sun and moon
but my thin fragile embrace is full of home
—
November 2022
—