You can go deep with me
Way down deep
beneath the "fine"s and
"okay"s and
that same old tired, tight-lipped smile,
ever wearying,
fading as the sun sets;
cheeks wilting,
skin sagging
overcast irises not quite
knowing how
they will face another day.
You can go deep with me,
show me what you hide so carefully
the fucking frustration of it all,
the murderer,
the heartless
senseless
beast
who prowls unrelentingly
gnawing at the root of your soul.
Come,
and go deep with me, and
I will show you
that beneath the horror
of your hall of mirrors
lies a child
in a basement
quivering
lonely
touch starved
lovely
innocent
ever patient
awestruck,
as she looks out
into blazing brightness
dancing on a thousand stars,
fingers brushing the moon.
Tell me your secrets
and I promise you
that you will not be left
comfortless.
2 comments:
Thank you for the invitation to go deep with you, dear Elloa. This is beautiful. I too want to go beyond the "fines" and "okays," I very much want that.
These words feel like softness and safety today.
Thank you.
So rich, Elloa. I'll come along with you anytime. I love your brave soul, and I know I'd feel awesome having you by my side to face the monsters. I know you'd bring it to love, cut the monster down to size, and take him home with you for tea. I love this about you.
I love 'fingers brushing the moon'. Keep showing up here, friend. It means the world to witness.
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