Withering

Withering 

deep inside myself 

like a tree shrinking 

emaciated without water

without your love 

to fill me

 

make me grow 

entice me

fill me

anoint me with 

water dripping 

down my face

a baptism of passion 

engulfed in your light 

the sun that lights 

my world 

 

if I beg 

will you water me?

a withering wreck 

no longer blooming

devoid of that fruit 

of love

craving your water 

so I may grow

 

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I am sincerely sorry for not blogging in so long. I have had some really crazy past couple of weeks and so I have not gotten much writing accomplished. With that being said, I am back today! I hope you enjoy this new poem.

 

Fascinated

Fascinated by my grotesque

appearance in the mirror

I am convinced that

I am some carny

or star of a freak show

the way my arms bend,

the shape of my body

that cannot be defined

by any conventional means

of the word shape,

me, being composed of

odd slopes and angles

masked by bumps and blobs.

I cannot look away,

as painful and terrifying

the reflection is

my gaze is fixed

like an onlooker

to a car accident

just with less blood

in the mirror.

Fascinated