Wednesday, April 13, 2016

In Pursuit of Wallflowers (A metaphor)




I watch your arms
the veins rise quickly
trails of fierce blue green
the blood pumps your muscles
up
hands flexing
bone to bone
blood to marrow
to create, to form
a slight wet shimmer
on the surface

A pale rose
Then bright crimson

The tension is palatable
Ashes to dust


Oh the phrases you’ll go...

Lately I’ve been thinking about two expressions which have tested my mental health and, most likely, everyone that is familiar with them...