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Mother's Wings

entry picture

My fluttering monarch wings aren’t a show of-

Love.

Rather a defect of being denied it,

Here again after I thought happiness found-

Me.

Your northeastern chill demeanor

An icicle that stabbed my heart and your weapon-

Melted

I’m still standing and like cupid with his arrow

I’m bleeding all of you.

I never said I wanted it to be easy hue

Of a dark blood red love.

XX Erin N. Buckley xx

poetrypoemlovedevotionromantic

◄ The Beast is Me

Talking to my Tummy ►

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