Monday, December 31, 2018

Not to heal






Neatly tucked beneath the carefree brow,
The gleaming eyes and the sugared smile,
Is a crimson wound that breathes and gnaws,
Almost fresh, still deepening, still ramifying,
That craves the warmth of that velvet touch,
And the solace from that pristine glance;
But stop yearning...
For what you deem to be the cure
Will hurt even more than the wound.
Stop yearning...
For it is saner to believe the wound is not to heal.
Just don’t place the finger there;
Take a deep wistful breath and look askance.



This poem was published in The Literary Hatchet Issue 21 (page 156)


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