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