Wordle #121

Week 121.png

Your words are microliths
scrapping me into caricature.
My smile only ignites
in the obscenity of darkness.

Your esurient eyes glitter-
ever the cannibal-
your breath exalts my detritus.
When viewed from above
we all appear more feral.

We haven’t managed
a forward step in years
and yet everything about you
appears so aberrant and new.

The sillage of a futile lust
wraps around my heart
like a poultice.
I can almost forgive you
but beneath the gauze
my wisteria wounds still weep.

Let’s go brambling,
fruit like a bruise
and sweeter than a kiss.
I could use the abstraction.

I am seriously off my game. Dealing with a lot of dark and powerful emotions at the moment.

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