bruises are mine

samantha lucero

her eyes were emerald cities in tourmaline

mist spit down from the burning moon

though soot and whisper woke my wolf-child

from her yellow maidens melody

she pooled in fevered mulch and wooden pearls

that he planted with misery and pined out

by laughing at the demon-fruit;

by dining in the diamond’s vein

restlessly into that muddy river’s spine

frothed sticky, milk-white limbs

butter-knifed into the nectar of a princess cut

moonstone, stinging quietly as ruby winds

on brand new wings

and way over the feather-laden fields, far out

where she tangles, soaking in the grave he wept her

the mineral tongue of earth has lapped her

swallowed gems and all


words = samantha lucero 2016 ©
image = not mine.

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Author: oldepunk

Writing about my views of the world in a stream of conscience style

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