Teardrop Light
In the teardrop light of the misty moon,
the apparition shimmered and swayed.
Concern that victory would leave too soon,
evaporate and offer me, full splayed.
Cracked, fractured, delicate psyche open,
bare, and opiating into nightscares.
Turning soon to stare, reflect. I. Broken.
How much can one asseverate he bears.
The teardrop light now glimmers as golden,
pure and unfettered by dark delusion.
Chasing shaky hubris to embolden,
encourage, brilliant gorged transfusion.
Copyright © Linda Alice Fowler | Year Posted 2021
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