the heart of my madness beats wildly beneath polished glass its feathered limbs twisting turning frantically a living thing fighting desperately to be free it

Reclaiming my inner badass at 50
the heart of my madness beats wildly beneath polished glass its feathered limbs twisting turning frantically a living thing fighting desperately to be free it
words some days my savior some days my hell dissolve into fragmented syllables and lonely letters that I cannot reassemble back into meaningful wholes I
slow morning wake interrupted unexpected serenade ‘pretty woman’ sung slightly off-key with confident bravado only a stranger wandering by an open window while wearing headphones
there are those who read “survivor” and instead only see only hear “victim” who deem me “damaged” incapable of a “normal” life there are days
i measure time stitch by careful stitch my needle smoothly gliding through the fabric rhythmic measured the threads weaving a kind of peace with each
reached for basic black today red, blue and gold hang untouched in the closet lasso of truth forlorn in the corner too heavy for these
we do not need words we do not need a shared written language we have eyes that truly see lips that speak a common tongue
swimming hard against the current in choppy white surf running barefoot in cold wet sand legs straining aching but afraid to stop to breathe what
She brings black roses and moonlight fireflies like stars in her sky bare feet caress the dewy ground night blooming jasmine reaching up to brush