I repeated the old words too often.
Now shadows of their former potency
Have delivered a still grey fog to me.
It was sent by God I know to soften
Wounds: new, ancient, shallow, deep, wretched sore;
To soothe the guilt of not doing. Being
Is a kiss caress, I am now seeing.
Compelling all the same but much less raw -
I forgot it had slipped; that it's still there.
I wish for baths of many colours: breath
Of green, blue diamond feet; rainbow of death:
Dense earth bones cascading up princess hair.
I surely wish to bore you with my dance:
This is the deepest dive, the biggest chance.
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