Friday, May 2, 2014

i draw compliments out, oozing like
honey from a half empty jar. 
maybe i am half empty-
trapped air, (gutted, cored, still bearing the scoop marks like scars)
the ghosts of hornets,
filled in a vacuum.

someone once told me that my aura was dark blue,
tension, anxiety, anger.
i think my aura has grown dark gold to yellow like a fading bruise.

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