I've been writing quite a bit of dark poetry - reflecting the place where my mind has been for many days. Banjara which I posted yesterday was sort of an emergence from that dark place and finding value and love within that which is most precious - your own soul. But for quite a few weeks now I'd been writing from a place of darkness... and this was one of those pieces. Flawed is about the fragility of relationships, and the depths to which we will go to protect that fragility; holding onto deceptive memory in an effort to protect ourselves, instead of breaking open the rawness and truth of a memory that hurts. And finding that only by doing so do you release your soul from bondage. Memory which is flawed then creates a flaw within the self - and only by speaking its truth can you eradicate that flaw.
Flawedthis memory
its strangeness
flawed remembrance
of you
holds fragments to my skin
that scatter when dry
autumn's demise upon
this frigid wind
but still it succeeds
at leaving its mark
in the hollow of my neck
where you laid a thousand kisses
on the sweetness of my mouth
where your lips brushed mine
and whispered secrets of
a promised spring
to a guileless heart
all convincing
it weaves its deception
until nearly complete
and strangles hope
to lay at your feet.
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