Vulnerable

No more dreams of strange colors,

Or nights of trust and fever

.

The Cupid’s bow, the arrow like

Eyes;

The boiling red

Underneath the skin.

Colors

Left behind in black and white

And now I am free to leave

.

ML

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2 thoughts on “Vulnerable

    1. Thank you, I’m so glad you like it.

      Honestly, I have no idea who I am or what I’m talking about most of the time when I write a poem. Sometimes I go back to old poems and try to remember what I was thinking about. It’s always a wild ride and I’m never sure if I know what was going on with me (because my memory is awful…), huh.

      Liked by 2 people

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