I water the vulnerable parts

Rooms capture nothing

Without wallpaper

Coverless books

Dangle bare

Eroding the roots

Of cotton-bound truths

Silently harbored there

 

Downfacing clouds

Quench fire-filled mouths

Bored deep

Into purple-red air

Branches stand scorched

Under grandmother’s porch

Soil begins to flare

 

No hiding from

Magnified eyes

No burying

Faces once feigned

The warrior rose,

Petals once closed,

Welcomes a touch of rain

 

This poem is about: 
Me
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