drips may fall violently from his kiss
but those wounds do not bleed until they heal. . .

Scarring bonds
Foundation’s bridge
I darn my lips
thread bares’ edge

held as harmless
violence falls
anxious quiver’s
intoxicant cure.

heartbroken anguish
pools dry
scabbed as I am
bonds mending

terse muscle builds
head high turning

turning
heels a dervish magic
walks away

---

paint much love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower