This is a guest post by: https://woodsydotblog.wordpress.com
If you’d like to guest post feel free to connect by going to the blog’s connect page.
simply standing was enough –
simply standing in a place
where everything grinds and grates.
Every now and then,
you’d find yourself fighting my monsters again,
teeth and tentacle
for custody of my arms –
the hand that scratched and the arm that bled.
They’d paint the air, these scratches,
right across the sky,
like vapour trails.
They’d leave the world tattooed on skin,
and pulling me down –
They were yours once –
yours to watch
and fuss over,
you being the one place I couldn’t hide my pollution from.
You hated them,
hated seeing me make them,
even made me weep for hurting you –
the one weapon you had left,
your wounded disapproval,
handwritten in the clouds.
But you knew the skies I ached for…
and you knew,
better than anyone,
that scratches were as close as I could get –
the vapour trails
of tiny fingernail flights.
So you owned the days when I made them…
sat and held me through them
and told me stories of a love,
big enough to scrape me free
from all those jet wounds in my soul.
Find more of this poet’s work here: https://woodsydotblog.wordpress.com