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Her Wounds

Los Angeles, CA

Photo: Thomas H.P. Jerusalem

Letting go,

we travel in darkness.

This soaking sun has gripped me now

in deep, salt-watered pores.

She clings to me,

breaking through voids

with thoughts that dark hearts bleed better.

There is hidden love.

Unknown creatures learn their limits.

I see a little girl with a free soul

and in the sand, she sank.

We became the sea.

Doubting our existence

consuming weak souls

with auras so gentle,

a delicate curse.

She cries.

I howl with hot breath in the night

immersed with delusion

finding a single moment of feeling

one’s intensity. 

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Her Wounds
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