Antonella Biunda Poet Free verse

While We Metamorphose

My voice
broke
on the edge
of breath.

We stripped
the bark
from our ribs
like trees
to find
no center.

Blood
is a language
we forgot
in churches.

I held
your absence
like a flame
burning
under my tongue,

while skin
remembers
the names
we
never
spoke.

I was becoming
not better
just
closer
to the fracture
before
the old name.

And you
fell into me
like a glyph
not carved.

We did not rise
we undressed.

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Danny Derden July 9, 2025 at 11:58 AM Your final lines—“We did not rise / we undressed”—reject transcendence or redemption. This isn’t a resurrection; it’s a stripping down, a baring of self. Powerful stuff, haunting. Keep it up.