Margherita short poem

Uploaded by Sofia Quaglia

Leaves will grow out
your chopped skin;
Petals that peel off
from that cut
in between your legs,
whispering fragrances
through those shattered lips –
Those bones knocking
at the edges
of your transparent envelope.
Bird eyes, tainted livid –
light never belonged elsewhere
but behind those lashes.
Whiter than chalk,
you wither in the freeze.
Who’s going to explain
why you hold back
in the pure light?
Who’s going to tell the tales
of these normal people?
You said it wouldn’t matter
but your collar bone can hold
all of humanity’s bouquets.
Groom, that hair
where the roots will always be
the color of her guilt.
Flowers growing from under
our dirty fingernails.
Who will sing the pain
of wishing
to be someone else?
How do we even
know we’re standing,
when all we wear
are our frigid memories
sewn within these colored rags.
Twine hair. Alcoholic.
When your voice
will crumble,
time will have already
broken our spines.

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