poetry, women

Still

Old enough to

Know the world

Young enough to be

Disappointed with it

And still I give

The gift of myself

Still I

Lean into my fears

Kiss them open mouthed

And swallow the bitter taste

Of rejection

Recrimination

And each day

Another adventure

Not a signal of virtue

For my possession

Of it is considered

Tenuous to some

But I am a destination

A world to visit

A presence to rest

With until the urge

Twists inside you

And you call to me

 

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