I am anxious like the painting of Mona Lisa
Curated with my own jitters,
There is a platter of loss, rumbling loud inside
where the web of splinters corrode my skin
And you may see my second skin,
for pain is the language of skin.
The mouth of a cave is that invincible spot of the moon
so, the mouth resides inside my blood.
Where the droolings of grey skies touch my bare shoulder
screeching. ( the inside is the rupture of seeds, with no desire of flowers)
Total Darkness. Cold distilled blue.
Yet, the poetry of inside soul speaks an
array of hopeful rainbows.
© My Valiant Soul