The Reality of Fresh and Oozing Wounds

The stars glitter, the moons shine, like a fading meadow, coalescing prime time,

Attitudes are segmented, ideas are perforated, there is mixing, and interspersing happening,

Of our bodies and souls, ideas and fashion, persistence, and determination,

I wish you had remained the way you were, bringing me milk in honey, dense and simmer,

Shout out ‘Eureka’ once in a while, like Eucelids’s tryst with buoyancy, After all, I am a discovery,

Now and then I come, forcing and manipulating the fates, trying hard in our dates, and yet the nights were raunchy..

Shadows frame and bind in rooms and furnaces, shades and bare bodies frames cast in the wooden oil.

The clothes fall down, and the ways and shine of the embedded words mix and match, hatching the passions one after another.

Lips and tongue marinating a serenade, as petals grew out of our fertile bodies, the creepers heap and twitch, climbers cause a momentary blip,

And your nakedness forms the abode of prime, elevating and sizzling in glistening morning shine.

Ways are made and meaning to stay in, for kingdoms are burning and princes fighting,

For I am a craver of male gaze and sight, within and without love the touching of skin, harrowing shine.

Merging bodies, small and sleek, protruding flowers from ears and cheek, I smell it and see, if at all you are worth bedding with,

Don’t feel the wrath as I do it for me, for you did it with merely proclaimed chastity.

Your shame can never dwindle and stop me from exploring my sexuality. The nights are fray and my gaze is dark I feel the rose and bloodlust ark,

Credits: Zaamela Saavedra, Unsplash

You came with a knife and seasoned blood, cut her hands, and raged her thighs with your killing drag,

For all humans have sons to pay, I see you lay in a dungeon tray, gray is the outcome of bloodlust beings, for the woman you hit was my mother…

Can anyone say, I am in an estranged Surrey? This kills with kindness and beats with blindness, like the Lady Justice’s avoidance,

When poor cite the constitution, there are laws undergoing fission and fusion, it's time you go too, and I take it for you will come with me.

Sit here and see me partaking in glitz and glamour and tell you, “I do not love you” while being under your father’s rug…

For he is with me, entering the deeper depths of me,

And, time of sorry has passed…

The cries were never there, but the ideas merged.

Cries of joy in bodies eloping to transcendental bliss..

Sarah! Sarah! Sarah! You there!

(Sarah in shock, contemplating words) Mother you said, it's based on real-life instances.

Sarah’s mother says “Yes, And?”

Sarah replies, “So who?”

Did I tell you that the lady killed her partner after tying him to a chair and forcing him to watch her having sex with his father?

Sarah in silence, eyes opened, gazing to her mother’s face, uttering, “And?”

Sarah’s mother clears her inquisitive mind, “Sarah did I tell you your dad died because of a heart attack yesterday?”

Cosmic context: This poem discusses themes of infidelity, revenge, and revenge sex. The setting is a morning where Sarah and her mother sit. Sarah calls her daughter and tells her, “What I am about to say is very important?” I will say it through my newly written poem. Sarah replies, “That’s okay Mom but when will dad come home? I haven’t seen him in a while.” Sarah says, “he is just outstation for a business trip.” Sarah was relieved, agrees, and starts listening, she gazed and asked, “Mom is the poem real?” Her mother gazed at their lovely veggie garden in their backyard, and then looks her in the eye and says “Yes.”

Credits: Sierra Koder, Unsplash

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