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The Same Flower. The Same Dying.

In distress
I was born
Of your
Dirt womb

In mud was
I cradled
Until the last
Of these are done

In light did
I slide from
Dark to light
In blood birthed

From soil to
Skin. From
Flesh to flesh
I became

Through slick
Toil I found
An absolution
For the decay in me

And for time
And time I strive
From velvet to
Velvet. I search

For womb to
Die in.

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6 thoughts on “The Same Flower. The Same Dying.

  1. Almost wrote a response to this before I remembered that I don’t do that anymore…

    *small smile*

    For now.

    P.S.?

    Started out…

    “for a tomb
    – to lie in…

    For all time.
    The word ‘alive’
    compelling you –
    and still you search…”

    Then I stopped – (well – stopped typing it out anyway)

    Hard to breathe when one is playing dead. (just sayin’)

    M.L.

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