National Poetry Month day 18: The Painter

Snared by the weight of the dripping heart,
breaths hallowed in the corpse

The bites in womb,
thrashes on the face
ancient as dusts collects
Color is drained skin

A cold settling wind knocks rosy cheeks against jaw bones
extravagant gowns droop into rags
They dance, they dance
as if death played a tune

paper torn

The painter
reaches for a brush to paint love again

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