Another wound mends.
Slow, yet
molding into celebration.
We can be
the butterflies that
drink from a
caiman's tears, if we
will it.
What are thoughts but
the heart bursting from
its cocoon?
They flutter then
fly
into the great shrug.
Robert J. W. (6-28-23)
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The poetess questioned her work
"What monstrosity are you, my darling?"
The words came alive and replied
"A demon fit for all your yearnings".
©️ ilakiyaaa
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{Words by Anaïs Nin, from The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4 (1944-1947) / Cynthia Cruz from diagnosis,The glimmering room}
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Natalie Wee, Least of all
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