Paint the Snow Pink/1Wise-Woman

There is a pain in living

For those devoured

With awareness

We are buried

Under frozen ponds

Murky muddied memories

Where wicked absconds

Desperately holding on

To waning sun

In for the long run

Exploring depth

Of clouded breath

This feeling isn’t new

Existing in pulses

Ripples and surges

Repulsive

Reflection

Of what I am

Supposed to be

Contradictory

Softness

Refuses to align with

Poison

Flowing through my veins

A sign

I don’t belong

And long for

Waves

Of heroin laced heaven

Gripping

Pulling at light

Dampening anguish

Tightly tucking relief

Into empty spaces

Entreating

Enough

To last a lifetime

I just can’t lose any more days

But raging winds rise

Despite my cries

Steals

Leaves

Summer grieves

Winter thieves

Duets sung

Too melancholy

For my warmth

Worshipping way

Hushed and holed up

Haunted by

Hail

On a tin roof

A sound that can only be

Drowned

With fear

Tainted tears

Cold cruelty creeps

Through cracks

In floor boards

Sullen slivers

Cumbersome

Consciousness

Caused shivers

Blood drops form

My distraction

Paint the snow pink

On the brink

Covered with bruises

Camouflaged excuses

Everyone loses


I write about the challenges and successes that originate from living with invisible illnesses, using poetry, prose and autobiography. Writing under the name 1Wise-Woman, my blog can be found at A Lion Sleeps in the Heart of the Brave

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