Like silks saturated in gasoline,

My heart burns slow, dank yet ready to burst.

The poisonous glances of contempt thrown my way,

the low flying words,

rewriting a past

which to me seemed sun filled and light,

Woven into passages dripping with my failures

and weaknesses,

Wiping away all that I am.

Each word,

singeing rivulets of butane

work their way through the weave,

microscopic rivers

lifting the colors

from my silken marrow,

until my skin, blistered,

feels even caresses like flames.

So drowned,

I hold my breath,

fearful that one move to swim

and I will explode.


About The Sterling LIne

Where does art end and life begin? I don't really see a distinction, but I try to consciously live each moment with enthusiasm, following inspiration where it leads, being open to possibilities and exploring the boundaries of myself, the world I live in and those I meet. Though I attempt to tread softly and respectfully, I often get clumsy, carried away with enthusiasm ... Woman, artist, force of nature and mother... Lives in the SF Bay Area.
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