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Subtle

A Scorn Identity - #8

By House September Published 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 1 min read
Subtle
Photo by Eric Nopanen on Unsplash

Fortitude sought me out today. 

I have danced with her before, 

I was consumed by her underneath the starless night. 

From a distance, I could hear my teardrops. 

*

They fell. They fall.

I grow up prideful in my stance. 

rejected the pleads of the roaring clouds above,

I ignored my cries from below.

*

Her crimson alarm skin.

A dream-like serenade escaped her fleshly pores.

Yet, I beheld her wit. 

She replied, “you dare?”

*

Hold me in this manner,

Her voice grasps my waist. 

“Don’t leave me behind the closed door”.

For this moment, I dare not put aside.

*

Delighted by my unworldly comfort.

No longer beside myself.

Her so-called modesty, 

I am once again in her servitude.

performance poetrysurreal poetry

About the Creator

House September

We’ll play with each other’s broken hearts. Let us exchange our pieces like trading cards.

I’m too bored to notice, and you are too high to notice the air beneath your feet.

I have poems to share.

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