Gone

11 comments
It was neither the time nor the place to remind you of yours.

You found me, pushed once, spread gratitude's thighs.
Verse softened fingers pulled words from my womb
stretching umbilicals, yanked at the end.
I laboured, for it's pain (and you smiled) cuts the fat from the bone.
No bloody gushes, I'd battened insides past dilations.
One (oh so poetically) stroke of the beard,
midwifery guises aside,
now lover and mentor no conflict apparent,
knees straddled my neck with eyes on my eyes.

Your mirror, my mirror I offered my mouth.
The morsels you pushed past my teeth
were up for adoption to infertile heirs.

Annealed in suttee rends you grease, slipped away.
I tempered to carbon a catalyst core,
surrounding hisssssssssssssssssounds
ripping loose with the tearing of unknitted bones
I am flesh, blood and cartilage, not plasticine dreams.

Now is the time.
And my place to remind you
let go of the lost.

—LP

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