releasing & growing

poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.

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strike after strike,on the same wound,wound I thought patchwork had healed,had strengthened the grounding,yet in your presence,all the stitches are ripped apart,every needle that knitted so carefully,the embroidary ever so delicately formed,all cut with one knife, that is your voice,I do not understand why or how,nothing comes out of my mouth when I see you,Just […]