by Linda M. Crate
you nip at me playfully so i lash out with
talon and beak in irritation sometimes for while
i love you, i am not some game to be played
or even mastered; i am just a girl yearning for
your love to whisper me all the soliloquies my heart
has forgotten so that i can bloom a scarlet lily
freckled with brown once more beneath a sky that
is tethered with sun star hope and stained with the
blood soaked clouds of every bitter yesterday past.
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...beautiful...again...
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