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"Soul Bare (nakedness)"

No one looks at her anymore.

She sits dazed and confused amongst

Cheap berber grey rugs and atop

creaking weight given mattresses calling out to many

waiting to be blessed with hands

that would embrace and enclose warmth

To pop her cherry and

de-virginize the white cleanliness of crispness

freshness and new lovers' forgiveness

Forgiveness is she

How could it be that

I was once her first love and she was mine

Inseparable. Clung hip to hip and smiling

back at me, comfort in the middle of

sleepless nights and thoughts to hold on to

I whispered sweet nothings and dreams

reserved for magical places, deep dimensions

and untold stories


New hearts new beginnings/ first loves/ joy pains

and historical monuments that

birthed the life into my nostrils

Breathed air into my lungs and

rose oxygen unto my chest/ allowed

exhalation and respiration. My second heartbeat.

I breathed once for her

but she lays by the wastelands reaching

out to me, calling my name

A flood that has risen from story

thoughts and madness

I didn't throw the life jacket

Allowed her to drown.

In the depths of murky brown graves

Coldness engulfs her

She was laid to rest by Blessed Assurances

cheap carnations tearful eyes and baby's breath

She is gone.

But calls me still.

I hear that beat in her chest

A tap of the batted eyelashes, a lick of

the lips, a stir of bones and muscle

too long, ignored blatantly of disrespect

she is born again and walks the resurrection

of soul-connection seeking vital truths

of blatant lies she wants my redemption

and to all that have kissed the sleepiness in her


No one looks at her.

I purposefully and meticulously lay her out

vulnerable, mesmerizing and catching to the eye

Do they not want to understand

The soul of my cry?

I have ignored her

But now as I write on her captivating

pages, as she extracts this I realize and see

That poetry is her

The (nakedness) of me.


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