You shove me; I stagger and fall down.
The silvery slivers of a broken life,
Prickle ‘n pierce my wispy withered skin.
Rivulets of Ruby-red rush out. I scramble ‘n strive,
Only to be entangled in a filigree of fancy fibs.
‘He’ll be fine—bear up. You’re his wife.’
A solemn stable alliance. Is it not?
Belt- buckles, shoes, sticks ‘n stones—Yours.
Unshed tears, livid bruises, unheeded scars—Mine.
A raging ravine roaring behind bolted doors.
Knots of nauseous noise shimmering,
In the tapestry of conjugal chores.
–Color of my Cage
-an excerpt from one of my three poems featured in Monochrome Verses, Coffee Table book of Poems by Chrysanthemum Chronicles.
More about this book:
Poetry is when an emotion has
Poetry is that
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