I lit and held a candle in it’s darkness
Only to reveal the sultry image
of a soul that might have been lost,
some time ago, in the reflection of the naked mirror that stands before it
Collisions of a train,
lost thoughts marinade reality;
a poet with no pen or direction claims the night to propose thoughts
the beautiful with all the depth, and uncertainty reveal life in whispered words
Castrated tongues hang languidly on the front nail of a Social keep
“Do Not Enter… or Allow” the Earth quaked
Solely to the confused and sensitive.
“I wish I was, and Bless the Virgin”, traumas nailed me to the old worn bed of oak and pine,
Splinters chaffe and scar the wounds I my self
have allowed to bleed.
*(matthew bowers)* ~93©
The House of Raven 🐦⬛ 