Friday, 14 October 2016

Wounds

If words could tug, pull and tear open
Would they have ripped these masks
And weave brand new ones to hide tears
We pulled so hard, perhaps the fabric tore 
And each stich of shame fails to cover
The nakedness of our needless anger
I run towards and against you each time I fall
You pull away and towards me with an apology 
Later when night lights up the sleepless soul
I weave new fabric that will never be mine again

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