written by: Courtney Trowman aka CC Bella
Wax petals melt under the brilliant sun and bleed onto a canvas,
the sweet color of hydrangeas.
Enormous blooms of blue, grey and purple…
an elaborate vision recalled on the other side of delirious fevers and verdant urges.
A nearby pile of dismembered boughs are splayed out like wings…
My native tongue is the poetry of rust and stardust so the symbolism is not lost.
My skin smells of a morning swim in the open ocean, a collective unconscious
and it leaves me a witness in converse; real life in the round.
I do not cry at the power at being broken.
I cry at the charm of being healed.
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