I was not supposed to want you.
Yet this touch, that touch, and everyone since seared in my mind
-has scorched a trail through my synapses
Returning to a core long lost.
To the face I feared to see.
I can not go back to blindness after sight.
There is an inner spiraling tunnel she tumbles in
-over and over peering over the edge of consciousness-
the lost woman I hid, afraid to see, she saw me.
In a mirror two sets of eyes- we recognized.
And ever since I’ve looked the other way
-afraid to see the lie I paint on in lipstick.
The kohl darkened eyes, attracting esteem I no longer need.
I need to be free.
Feathers clutter a cages bottom
-Hope does not stir anymore.
Perched behind golden bars-
and molts freedoms path to the floor of her life.
Copyright © tara jennings | Year Posted 2018