Dysmorphia

1.
Grey walls fold inwards like lotus flower petals,
Pure.
With that white-tinged face stroking your chin free of
Traces of your glory, like you don’t have the right to be
That full of light,
Dread seeps in through cracks left under palm prints,
Unnatural in their directionless swooping and abrupt ends,
Arid air goes straight to your head –

2.
Tinted glasses,
Not roses.
Hazy, grey-coloured lenses,
Prisms reflecting distorted patterns into mirrors,
Shattered glass, laser beams,
Barbs turn you into fairy dust, metamorphic,
Shed layers like a snake, or like you
Stayed in the sun too long –

3.
Drop like a stone into the ocean,
Let the waves tend.
Let the salt mend.
And at your call, perfect –
Smooth, soft emerge,
Like one of Poseidon’s marbles
Lost at sea.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s