Anywhere but here
since that day seemed so long ago
strange that now it wasn't.
When she felt so radiant- irradiated
like the sun had blistered away
all the layers of skin
leaving her bare and exposed;
revealing her secrets-carefully hidden away
in the dusty rafters of childhood.
Many days had passed by wasted,
Life, like an art film
replayed in fast-forward motion
featuring the imagines
that come at life's end;
flickering in the dark.
alone in the theater,
sitting for review.
Thoughts mumble low now,
no longer shouting down one another
accustomed to being disregarded,
they politely wait their turns;
Pain becomes part of the limbic landscape
inserting itself here and there
like scrubby cacti, succulent and bristly.
Houses of doors slam shut; screen doors sift air
For Open Link Night http://dversepoets.com/