Author Information
Ravaged Garden
Folder:
The Ravaged Garden He tore into me
Fisted my no
Until it fit into his little black hole
And all the time
The hand on my face was mine
Teeth prints on my knuckles
Silencing the cries
If I open my eyes
I will see his face
His eyes
His dirty mouth
All reflected in the ring I wear
The ring he gave me
Before I said
I do
Wow! This is immensely powerful!
Starward
I like what you have written here.
It is a harpsichord tune in the night that goes out of view of the moon.
It is a summer refrain, like a petroleum rainbow on a pond.
It is a secret kindness that courses like an itch.
Maybe in appreciation of misguided guidance threaded through a long night of discipline in a labyrinth.
It is a collaborative linked-poem of pleasure and pain.
"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"
Dylan Eliot