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Writhing in the Dark

Maybe it is best
left as a mystery,
all the sacred things
you hold dear,
trapped inside
for you to breathe.

Even as you notice
the most sincere
principles of reality–
you condemn all the fake
that screams in your face,

and that knowledge may lead
to even more intricate puzzles,
fluttering down from
somewhere to nowhere,
like lazy words writhing
mystically in the dark.

 

______________________________

Original Photography

Posted on

Abstractly Published

 

2017 Reflect:

When you are at the saddest point in your life you feel as if there is nothing left. All you have are memories. All you have are hopes and dreams. Now those things you held dear are no comfort. They feel like talons dragging across your brow. Yet, when you are down for the count all you can do is look up. The sun flickers on your tears and there it is hope. A hope of new beginnings. Such beautiful beginnings, parts of you had to die, in order to see them. I guess my ass is a zombie then? ‘Cause I have done more in death than in life.

Ahhhh-men.

Christina M. Watkins

Posted on

A Walk Behind My Heart

I walked behind
my heart,
Covered up to the thighs
in its rivers,

freezing from the chill
that it became since 
life served it grief
beyond winters,

only seeing
the calm of blood that 
passed the rest of my 
body on the inside.

we learned to flow
together,
to search for ourselves
On the walls & floors 
of my flesh,

with no control as I got
closer to feel its beats, 

as blood became my 
Feet I swam

without ever learning
but knowing & feeling 
how weak I could be 
in its strength.