You would be
One of my favourite haunts
Although I never knew what we shared
In the tangles of our ruptured souls;
A home with familiar walls
And unfamiliar doors.
So when the storms raged
On certain nights,
I could only hope that morning
Would wash away
That ever spread its roots,
Clasped to my feet.
If my skin could leave
I know not how many rivers
Would leave stains on my cheek.
Why does every street lead to the same crossroads?
Am I at fault,
With yardsticks set against me?
I’m not a warrior;
My heart, a crystallized mass
Of dragonfly wings.
I’m not a warrior,
But a survivor trying to make through.
Stifling my sobs and swallowing my tears,
It’s not easy to embroider my heartaches
And avoid puncturing my fingers.
1 October 2016