spoke on a Sunday, leaves
in the air and electric hum
of the pastor's guitar
alive in that buzz was promise
beyond sermons and faith,
character before bedside surrender
mermaid in her bathtub
siren in the shower, sex
on every surface if you count
prayers to herself in the mirror
and every shiny surface
parallel reflections of reality
you spoke that sunday, leaves
caught in her hair, thought of
laying her down but you never
chanced speaking up, good
thing too- she would have wrecked
you like every other shambled life
she has left behind her
whispers in the church pew
and a wake of yous, broken
image from pixabay.com
Such raw and deep emotion... Cheers, @perspective!
Thank you, @macksby!
I liked your article. Helps you like mine ♥ @siams
Thank you.