© Black Tangled Heart

I look at the faint pink patches that line my wrist

Imagining them red again, raw again

Against ivory skin; fragile, flower petal flesh

Kissed by a silver blade

A watery blur through the tears that I dry

With a hope of solace inside myself

That I may find on life's twisting paths

Whether pain is fresh or meagre; whether I am fervent or indifferent

There will always be freedom