Posted in Poems, Uncategorized

Slanted.

The slant of the roof

slicing through my mind

cutting off all former thoughts.

I, huddling in the phantasms of his voice,

try to still the thundering of my heartbeat.

I bring my knees to my chest

tucking my chin as the blades pelt against the slant

and roll to the soaked earth before me.

My fingers instinctively trace my discoloured jawline.

My pulse burns like fire against my paper-mache skin.

I clench my fists,

curl them into little balls of pain–

muscles–

bones–

sinews, brimming with anger,

the reshaping of the human heart.

I hear the far-off wail of an infant

as the water rises,

I feel myself submerged

in the great migration of my own metamorphosis.

I lift myself up.

The repetition of my footfall.

Still tasting the metallic flavour of his wrath.

You —” He spat in my face.

I pick up a glass bottle,

smashing it against the spray painted sign of peace,

clasping a shard in my shattered self.

I whirl towards

him.

The slant of the glass

slicing through my chains.

Thank you as always for reading and sharing your thoughts below.

-Eva M.M

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

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Author:

I am the author of 1withthepen.wordpress.com and am currently working on a book of poems. To find out more check out my about me page as well as my page about my blog and welcome to the ink angels community.

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