Fashioned Fortitude
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written for the self portrait contest sponsored by Jayme T using words that are taken from my messy wardrobe.
A mirror never reveals
fallen secrets sewn with soulful sequins;
time unmutes raven melodies within,
tawny tunes of truth~
I once spoke in colorful dialects.
Now, I trust just the crying crescent in your
onyx realms
to alter faulty fringes, hanging undone.
Tonight I flaunt scented blue,
macaw-feathered longing
across skies draped
in glamorous garments.
There, the sakura moon glows, mimicking
the sullen silhouette of this ink-less skin,
in an amethyst sundress
flowing with kimono sleeves,
embellished with floral textures,
sparkling above cashmere rivulets,
while flickering jewels of midnight
sing beige ballads in a taupe tenor,
emanating tales of wildfire forests
through toffee-brown irises
of twinkling lunar.
With you, this metallic gold cage
feels unchained and free,
for my glass heart is a walk-in closet,
a perfectly imperfect mess;
fearless yet seamlessly flawed,
prisoner to polyester promises,
brimming with mismatched memories
and messy memoirs
perfumed with limitless weariness,
buttoned with burgundy betrayals,
tangled in unwashable restlessness.
Yet the ignorant ones claim this is
me cloaked in shame
and self-loathing rants,
oblivious to hope that flows forgotten,
in russet wine and champagne
shades,
between velvety dusk of dazzling deceit
and dimmed dawn of unstrapped reality,
when innocence is buried within a
pile of unzipped sins and needles.
But in the midst of silence, I sit,
questioning the milky quartz stars
in soft, melted musicality;
will scarlet-scarfed sorrow
be seen in darkness?
Will fate ever stitch frayed fabric of woes?
I wear my grief in silken lilac,
concealing the sleepless nights
beneath cinnamon eyes,
veiling the buckled scars
beneath tanned skin,
reluctant to voice the corseted angst...
I thread beads of bruised dreams
with warm strands of tenderness,
letting my honey-sage hair
dance in the delicate
light of the summer breeze,
for I am the retro
queen of fashioned fortitude,
crowned in blushing begonias,
robed in sakura stillness,
throned to the vintage
visions of antique skirts,
tracing pastel-colored
pages of poetry
to find the rhymes beyond
leathered phrases I weave,
as I waltz through
wisps of wilderness,
dressed in hues of haze
and blackness that dwells deeper
than obsidian tears.
I am the essence of sunless spheres.
I strive alone, crooning chaos
in cluttered cadence,
as an unfinished portrait
of a poignant past,
framed in garnet elegance
and gothic-ruffled gracefulness.
Copyright © Ink Empress | Year Posted 2024
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