This poem talks about a selfish person; actually, a selfish lover who instead of encouraging creativity puts you down and also calls out your sex “inferior” thus well is a bad lover or love in general. Tosha skillfully creates an ambience both astringent and filled with warm yet vivid images. It’s hard to explain the brilliance of the ambience as it is both cold and chilly then all warm and supple; like a crescendo or temp of tactile beats (found some words). Enjoy readers 🙂
Today I hide out in the linen closet.
as I feel the white picket fence closing
in around me.
I ghost dance on the pins and needles
agitating my brain
I count years in the darkness
I lie alone in the nest I made.
The hunted one still haunts
For a moment my organs swim
with him in our ocean of options wrong.
I recall reaching out once,
only to be stung by the air
How many times have I
rightfully swallowed my
spirit restless view?
Thinking my destiny belongs
to the lamplight; soft shapes
and gentle hues.
Here’s there’s no one to decode
my heart’s message and judgement
taste like martyr and Easter morning
But what I really want is delicious
Cadbury Caramel Eggs. Silk sheets.
Sex and lace.
What would happen if I tore
the linen closet’s door down,
demolished the fence, ripped my
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