31

I remember the storm,

When the wind broke through my soul,

And my veins were injected with thunder.

When under

The heart that once dreamed of all,

All that remained was the scent of hunger.

But I unlocked the doors,

And whispered to your rain,

Come,

I will not resist you.

What are you sending now

Onto my dry riverbeds?

Are you this tired of what remains of my mind?

Will there be an ark?

A mountain?

A turquoise ring?

Will this tarred womb

Give birth to a wing?

Come,

I will not resist you.

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Copyright 2019