Implicated by the Turning.
There is a gurgling in my throat, a tingling presence. A sign from the Heavens. A voice from the Shadows. My words are gone. ONLY THE SHELL OF ME REMAINS. Sweep up the sparkles of...
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Falling deeper into the marrow that runs through my bones
Surrounded by the echo of ancestry and lineage
Messages travel through me, encoded in my blood,
A deep rich blue hue like fine French china;
I am not fragile as those saucers and teacups
My chips do not negate my beauty;
Though, like dinnerware, they do have stories to tell.
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Gabriel Gadfly
2 years ago
I really like the penultimate line here.
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Khandroma
2 years ago
Let me count… *giggles* Such a fancy poet vocabulary. Thanks, though. I wasn’t sure if it was somehow too cliche.
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