Her Brittle Hands
Another layer of lavender scented lotion
Rubbed in vehement laughter
A quelling of sadness
Covered up in mascara insanity
Livid strokes of feathered paintbrushes
Hoping to see the big picture
She cried like oil paintings without a purpose.
A treasure hunter searching for rubbery remedies
Without heart’s sanctified atrium
To light the way
She bled from carnivorous pores
Bites against feeding palms
Struggling licks upon pacifier wounds
Mouth
Shut
Stone’s lonely lyric
Thrown against fragile lighthouses
Beaming through unacceptable horizons
Investigation of deity’s hidden agenda,
She questions validation’s esophagus
Its vocal chords
Torn
Another squeeze from lavender bottle
Empty
Its exhales shedding infantile whisper
…
A bounced reality check
Declaring that it wasn’t a disease
That afflicted her bones
©Drake J. Eszes
Copyright © Poet Tacito | Year Posted 2013
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